Journal
by ishrinkingviolet
Summary: Clare Edwards is your typical shrinking violet with a journal full of secrets. Eli Goldsworthy is an emotion turmoil dealing with the aftermath of an ex-lover's death. The fateful day that their journals are swapped,conflicted emotions arise.
1. Chapter 1

**Clare:**

Clare Edwards fumbled with her lock for what seemed like ages, hands trembling violently as she hastily dropped her books on the ground. She spun the dial as quickly as she could, desperate to have it open so she could breathe. She needed her journal, she needed to vent, and she needed to do it _now._

The torpid sense of grief was starting to kick in, erasing every bit of euphoria her friend Adam had fuelled her with the previous period. The empty void in her chest was now palpable, and her breath was staggered. The depression was slowly sucking her in again, sapping every bit of energy and happiness she once had, and as hard as she tried to fight, it would always come back. The sorrow, distress, and loneliness would always find a way back.

She glanced at the clock briefly, making note of what little time she had before her English period began. Grabbing a pen from her pencil case and flipping to the first empty page of her battered notebook, she began to write furiously now, not concerned of whether her writing was legible, or that her books lay forgotten at her feet. The words came rolling in faster than her hands could move, each sentence accurately describing the sense of greyness swallowing her up, the fear that lingered in the back of her mind. After finishing up with one particularly poignant passage, she soon exhaled and shook the soreness from fingers, feeling less burdened than she had five minutes ago.

"Ready, English buddy?" a voice chipped excitedly, scaring the daylights out of the petite girl. She jumped involuntarily, jamming her notebook between her pile of books with a horrified expression on her face. Seeing that it was just a familiar boy in a beanie, she sighed and clutched her chest in relief.

"A little jumpy today, aren't we?" he laughed humorously. "I know I make you nervous and all but…"

"Funny, Torres. We'll see who'll be laughing when you receive my dry-cleaning bill."

"You-what?" His eyes widen, conspicuously traveling downwards in utmost horror. She giggled at his reaction, noticing how he was starting to sweat. "I'm sorry I- ha-ha, you're hilarious Clare. I seriously thought you peed yourself. " He rolled his eyes and hitched his bag higher up his shoulder.

"I am hilarious, haven't you heard? You need to get out of the cave more often." she joked, slamming her locker door shut and walking next to Adam, who just snorted and opened the door for her.

Adam was her best friend- her _only _friend at Degrassi. This boy, infamous for his crazy video game obsession and unnaturally large collection on beanies, was the only one who had any interest in talking to a girl like Clare Diane Edwards. It wasn't that she was particularly idiosyncratic, or that she didn't want to talk to anyone, though. Simply, she was too reticent, too reserved, and too socially awkward to carry a conversation, let alone form a friendship with anyone. Clare was never the type to initial anything, always just a shadow that tarried when necessary, or walked away when there was no use hanging around. She wasn't a follower, either, and preferred to be alone for the most part. However, these days, her inner demons were getting the best of her, prompting her to seek refuge. Her parents wouldn't give ten seconds to listen to her, no- they were far too busy arguing about the most trivial matter than to pay any heed to their daughter. Darcy, Clare's older sister, had left for a program in Kenya a couple years back. She never hear a word from her ever since. For all she knew, Clare could disappear off the face of the Earth and no one would know.

Except Adam, of course. Adam was eccentric and childish at times, but he had a good heart, and Clare was thankful for him nonetheless. Because of Adam, she didn't have to sit alone during lunch hours, or go through English classes alone. As far as she was concerned, Adam was a gift from Heaven above.

"Settle down, class," Ms. Dawes said sternly, gesturing everyone to take their seats. Clare obeyed immediately, and put her books down at her feet, paying no attention to the dark-haired boy who sauntered past her with a near-identical pile of books sitting on his arms. She tried not to cringe when his chair scrapped against the hard marble floor, abhorring the sound his chair made. Her back was turned, so she didn't notice that he was wearing a lopsided smirk that was directed towards her. Clare tried not pay attention to anything but her English teacher, who was now writing a new assignment on the board.

"For the next week, you will be writing a reaction paper on Shake sphere's famous play, A_ Midsummer's Night _Dream_. _You can write anything you want about it, but the key is to be insightful. I expect no surface-like comments. The rest of the class period is yours to brainstorm."

"Hey Clare," Adam whispered, immediately scooting his chair closer to my desk. "Have you seen that guy behind you before? I think he's new."

Clare frowned, turning around. She found a pair of green orbs already staring intently at her back, completely unashamed to have been caught. He cocked his head to the side as if he was mildly perplexed by something, but other than that he appeared completely impassive. His eyes soon turned dark, and being the natural observer she was, this small detail didn't slip past Clare.

"Can I help you?" the boy asked, appearing annoyed by her scrutiny. His voice was low and intimidating, but smooth and velvety at the same time.

"Sorry," she whispered quickly, biting her lip and glancing at Adam with a scared expression on her face. It was then that Clare decided, that this boy was one to avoid.

No long about that minor incident, a screechy alarm soon filled the room and hallways, signalling all students and faculty members to evacuate the building immediately. Everyone in the class exchanged happy grins with one another, thrilled to have the opportunity to miss class time- everyone, except a young Clare Edwards, who was still startled by the mysterious green-eyed, dark-haired boy who looked as if he was heavily burdened by something. He exuded nothing but darkness and morbidity, what with his Sharpied-nails and Goth-like attire. There was even a hint of eyeliner environing his deep-set eyes, a sure sign that was someone you did not want to be involved with. This worried Clare to no end. Though, it was not only the fact that she had to sit in front of this boy for the rest of the semester that made her anxious. Truly, she was concerned about the well-being of him, and whether he was okay in himself. In spite of already deciding that she would never spare another glance at him again, that was just who Clare Edwards was. Always worrying about someone that was not herself.

"He seems kind of funky," Adam commented as we made our way outside. He wrinkled his nose as the Goth boy strode past the pair, appearing completely oblivious to the fact that people were gossiping about him. "And he sits behind you, too."

"He does seem strange, doesn't he?" she mused, eyeing him carefully as he approached a slender brunette who was Fiona Coyne. She furrowed a brow and looked at Adam, who didn't look too pleased with the boy by any means.

"Maybe I should go introduce myself," he muttered, stomping over at once with intentions of making it clear to Goth boy that Fiona was _his_ girlfriend. Unintentionally leaving Clare alone, he reached over and put his protective arm around her waist. Clare was out of the earshot, so she couldn't hear what he was saying, but judging by how unaffected Eli looked, she confirmed that he wasn't interested.

It was mid-December, and there was a fluffy white blanket of snow spread on the ground, not to mention, a freezing cold temperature hanging around the air like static. Clare rubbed her arms in a desperate attempt to create friction and heat, her delicate porcelain skin already turning a nasty blue colour. She had a very low tolerance for the cold, and without Adam as her personal space heater, she felt very vulnerable and exposed.

A few feet away, there was a gaggle of pretty girls standing around and making goo-goo eyes at Degrassi's eminent quarterback- Drew Torres. There was a lot of body language going around- the flutter of the eyelashes, the twirling of the hair- Clare resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had seen Drew around Adam's house many times before, and couldn't really see why so many girls found him charming. He chewed with his mouth open, spoke about girls like they were a piece of meat, and seemed to never have shirt available to him. Even in the middle of winter, he strutted around shirtless, and Clare began to wonder if he was doing that to provoke her. She was the only girl who thought of Drew in a strictly platonic way, and though he's never say, it bothered him to no end.

"Saint Clare!" he called cheerfully, waving to her excitedly like a five-year old boy who lit up at the sight of an ice cream truck.

But Clare didn't hear him. Her eyes were closed, and her arms were crossed. She looked as if she was trying to sleep.

Eyebrows merged together in confusion, Drew parted from his below- average football buddies and walked over to her, frowning and leaning into her. He peered curiously at her with his head tilted at the side. She didn't seem to realize him standing there, and so Drew, being the incredibly intelligent and rational person he was, stuck out his tongue and licked her nose.

"Wha-" Clare's eyes snapped open. Seeing a large boy tower over her with his tongue still jutted out, she let out a yelp and jumped backwards. "Drew!"

"Hi," he said, grinning at her with a foolish expression on his face.

Finally, the drill was over, and so was the period. The warm instantly melted with her skin and she entered the classroom once more. Clare sighed and bent down to pick up her books, hurrying back to her locker. Her head was bowed as usual, and was walked nimbly towards the door. There was a headache from the cold pounding in her against her skull, mixed with the migraine Adam's stepbrother had caused, she had trouble looking straight ahead without tripping over her own feet. Not realizing that the journal she had picked up was not hers, she made her way home and crashed onto her bed. Clare had no idea that in her possession, were the darkest most inner secrets of a sixteen-year old boy. Secrets that would open the door to something dangerous, frightening, shocking, and above all, to the heart of boy who has never opened up to anyone before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Eli:**

Eli Goldsworthy trudged through the empty popcorn bins, broken binders, dog-eared book copies, and other junk that lay forgotten on the floor before plopping down on his bed. Not even bothering to peel off his leather jacket of motorcycle boots, he lay with his back against the mattress, breathing heavily as she stared at his ceiling. His first at Degrassi, and he had only managed a conversation with a family friend, Fiona. Most kids gave him dirty looks and smirks, inconspicuously pointing at him from when he pulled up in his hearse in front of the school, up until the last bell rang. He didn't mind though. Friends were overrated, and people could think what they wanted about him. He wasn't living to please anyone- wait, scratch that. Anyone but Jules. She'd want him to try, at the very least, and that's what he'd do.

Wrenching himself in an upright position and looking around, he sneered. He gave everything to that girl, and all she did was take off and get killed, leaving him to deal with the crap storm she left behind. After spending almost two years talking to his shrink, he had to admit that he had gotten a lot better. He had moved on, for the most part, but the angry and ire was definitely still hidden underneath it all. The sense of betrayal will always be there, and he'd just have to deal with it.

"Baby boy, how was your day at school?" Cece asked kindly, stepping into his pig sty of a room. She tried not to wince at the horrendous sight, but Eli, being the natural observer he was, had noticed the distress behind the firmly-gripped pair of tongs she held in her hand. Cece was worrying about him again, and as many times as he told her he was fine, it only worried her more.

"Fine," he said curtly, making a point to rummage through his bag and take out his English notebook.

"Homework?"

"Lots of it,' he lied, hoping she would see that he didn't want to talk.

"Well... I don't want to bother you, so I guess I'll see you at dinner," she said softly, trying to conceal the hurt she felt. Her only son was shunning her, and there was nothing that would make a deeper scar than that.

After waiting until she was down the stairs, Eli took a sharp breath and made his way to the window. He pushed it open, hoping that the coldness would allow him to release some of the dull, stinging sensation in his heart. _You were doing so well, Eli. Hold your crap together._ He shut his eyes momentarily, wishing for the pain to subside somehow, someway. Opening them again, something caught his eye, and he immediately tensed up.

It was that girl again from his English class, accompanied by two boys. His fists automatically clenched at the sight, and all the memories came rushing back to him. How she had the nerve to gawk at him like that, like he was some messed-up painting at the museum. The innocence of her pink lips and large blue eyes aggravated him for some strange reason, and if it wasn't for her delicacy, how easily- frightened she seemed, he would have snapped her head off right then and there. As well… there was something hidden beneath her shockingly clear icy eyes that left him mildly puzzled. There was a thick layer of brokenness promptly concealed under a veil of well-being, something that he was all too familiar with. It was like a mask for her eyes- after all, the eyes tell everything. Could this small, fragile girl be as broken as he suspected her to be, or was it just his vision playing tricks on him? Either way, he had to find out. Suddenly, he held an intense desire to find out who she was, and why she was like this. It was crazy, considering he knew nothing about her, but there was a tugging sensation in his chest, urging him to get to know her better.

He watched her like the creepy stalker he was, watching her brush her burly auburn hair out of her eyes, watching her smile at the two boys who seemed to be guffawing at something hilarious. She seemed to be the quiet type, the type who never caused trouble. She was...kind of alluring that way, and he watched her like he was watching the most engrossing film.

"Snap out of it, Goldsworthy," he snarled at himself, gritting her teeth. In spite of his recent suspicion, this girl, whatever her name is, would only break under his toxic presence. He was a seriously messed-up dude, and it was unfair of him to want to taint any part of her.

A gasp escaped his lips when the figure he had been staring at looked back, catching his eyes for the briefest moment. His heart hammered, and he instinctively receded, hoping she didn't recognize him.

Scrambling to his bed, he wildly searched for his journal, needing to write down everything he was feeling right now. Everything that girl was making him feeling right now was not normal, and it needed to stop. All he needed was his journal and…

He flipped open the first page, freezing at once. This was certainly not this writing, and he certainly did not write in blue ink. At a panicked state, he glanced to the top of the page, reading the words _Clare Edwards._

He distinctively remembers hearing that name before. That boy in the beanies had said that name…to that girl who had just been thinking about.

He gripped the book harder. As his immense curiosity and conscience decided to partake in a raging battle in his head, an image from earlier on in the day flashed in his head. The same image of that unintelligent, sexist football pig kissing that Clare girl during the fire drill. He had been in Degrassi for no more than eight hours, and already he decided he did not like him. If he was playing with her heart…

It was decided. He tore open the book with newfound passion, more eager than ever before. Not only was he holding the secret to the only girl he was thinking about, but he would also determine whether or not that pig had successfully captured her heart with his cheesy pick-up lines and wolf-whistling or whatnot.

There was a quote, followed by a famous song lyrics scrawled on the first couple lines:

"_More and more, it feels like I'm doing a bad impression of myself"._

_I see your pattern,_

_I can match it,_

_Just trace of the line of my paisley jacket._

Eli's eyes widened. Not only was his girl a devout Palahniuk fan, but she also had a liking for Dead hands. Not only does this confirm his theory that she was as dark as he suspected, but with that, it meant she was almost a female version of himself.

_Mom and dad are fighting again, and I'm just sitting here like a useless rock, cringing when I hear the sound of glass breaking, weeping to myself when my dad's below sounds through the house. I worry if the neighbours can hear, and I wonder if they will call the police. It's not safe for me to stay here anymore, though, there's not really anywhere else for me to go. I've contemplated staying over at Adam's house, but the mere thought of sleeping near Drew makes me shudder. Plus, he snores like a pig suffering from nasal congestion._

Eli laughed out loud. He then clamped his hand over his mouth when he realized what had just happened. He had, for the first time in months, laughed. He had only seen this girl once in his life, and already she was having this effect on him. It scared him, but it also just intrigued him more. If this was just out of reading her writing, how would he be like around her in person?

_Sometimes I pretend I'm like a princess trapped in a tall tower. Sometimes I fantasize about a prince charming coming to rescue me from his horrid life I live, but I know that will never happen. Nobody loves me enough to do that. Not my parents, not Darcy, not anyone. Adam can only do so much- he is only fifteen like me, and his life doesn't revolve around me._

_Sometimes I'm scared to scream and shout. I want to yell at the top of my lungs, but I'm afraid no one will hear me._

He read the last line over and over again, wincing at the rawness that came form that one sentence. It was brilliantly pure, full of a stagnant pain and greyness captured all in one sentence. This girl was talented, no doubt about it.

He turned the page, coming across a picture of Clare Edwards herself. Subconsciously licking his lips, he drank her in, eyes lingering on the curve of her nose, the paleness of her flawless skin, the soft light flush sitting on her cheeks…

_Oh my God_, he thought to himself as he ripped the picture off. _I'm more of a creeper than I thought._

"Eli, honey!" Cece called. "Come down for dinner!"

Torn between obeying his mother's call and gazing at the girl a little while longer, he let out a frustrated sigh and stuffed the picture in his drawer, the proceeding to shove the journal in his bag. Feeling disgusted with himself, he descended the stairs, trying to convince himself that this was perfectly normal, that she just intrigued her in a platonic way.

But as he washed his hands, all he could think about was how he could find a way to talk to Clare Edwards.


	3. Chapter 3

**What do you think? Reviews would be great!**

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><p><strong>Clare:<strong>

Business as usual proceeded in the Torres house, and with every chicken bit flying past her and narrowly avoiding her face, Clare found herself having a harder time focusing on her math homework. Math had never been her strong subject, regardless of how teachers were constantly praising her for her amazing test scores. They even went as far as asking her to join the Enriched program, but Clare knew only too well that math wasn't where her heart was at. English was her passion, and if being in an advanced grade eleven class didn't prove it, her countless stories and journal entries did.

"Come on, Adam, you throw like a girl!" Drew complained, as the chicken bit Adam lobbed at him landed on his nose.

Adam glared at him in returned.

"Sorry," he muttered. "You know what I mean, bro."

"It's not like you can do any better!" he said, whipping a fry and his brother.

"I bet Clare can do better," Drew wiggled his eyebrows at her, obviously trying to distract her from her homework.

I sighed. "There are a lot of things I can do better, Drew. I'd show you, but my curfew's at six."

"Booya!" Adam cheered, slapping her hand.

"You better watch that tongue before I wash it with soap, Edwards," he challenged, pretending to scowl.

"Yeah, only it's funny because it happened to him before," Adam laughed before diving into yet another embarrassing story of Drew as a kid. He frowned, glancing back and forth between us in defeat.

"Hey, play fair. Little Edwards and little Torres against one," he whined, stuffing his face with a handful of fries and looking utterly depression.

"Whatever," Adam snickered. "Don't you say a girlfriend to tend to or something? Clare and I have homework to do."

"Bianca?" he asked, sounding muffled.

"I thought it Katie?"

"That was last week," he explained rationally before swallowing. His eyes tightened, a sure sign that he didn't want to press the subject further. He craned his neck and squinted at the clock, eyes darting towards Clare now. She didn't notice his staring, and appeared to be too caught up in particularly difficult question. She bit her lip and tapped on her pencil, crinkling her eyebrows in concentration. Drew and Adam shared an amused look before staring more intently at her, both drawing their faces near. Both boys had thought they were thinking the same thing, however, when Adam had finished counting to three without making a sound, he shouted "Boo!" while Drew licked her face, leaving a trail of saliva on her cheek.

Clare's heart dashed out of her chest, but given the situation of having the two boys on either side of her, she jumped straight up in the air, letting out a bit of a shriek.

"Dude, what the hell?" Adam frowned, staring at the wet streak on Clare's face.

"Stop licking me," Clare whimpered, seizing a fistful of Drew's shirt and wiping her face.

"Does it bother you? "

"Yes."

"Then no," he stated firmly, a smirk planted on his face.

"Dog," Adam grumbled, pushing his chair out so that he could stand up. "Come on Clare, it's five-forty. We better start walking home."

She nodded and obliged, neatly pushing her chair in and walking to the door. Zipping up her winter coat and gingerly putting on her woolly scarf and hat, she promptly jammed her feet in her boots. She could never be too overly-cautious about dressing for the weather, given her weak immune system and such. She had been sick before- never going there again.

"Bye, Drew," she called politely, as if ten seconds ago Drew hadn't completely invaded her private space and provoked her. This confounded Drew to no end, but he decided against mentioning it.

"Bye, Clare-bear!" he smiled.

**Eli:**

Eli groaned and stretched his legs, unable to believe that he had spent the last three hours of his life reading the diary of Clare Edwards. He was a snoop, there was no denying it. Regardless, he didn't regret any second of it. He had learned so much about her, and with every page he turned, Clare's insightful, thoughtful stories never failed to surprise her. She was, in fact, completely different from what you'd expect in a girl with a soft demeanour like hers. For example, her favourite story was _Invisible Monster _by Chuck Palahniuk. How many girls did Eli know enjoyed reading anything remotely related to a beauty queen with only her top teeth, and a hole for her tongue? None, that's how many. But at the same time, Clare's favourite flowers were pink roses, because they symbolized love, grace, and gentility- three of the most important things to her. In addition to that, pink was her favourite colour.

"This girl is so different," Eli said to himself, flinching at how infatuated he sounded. Realizing how he was talking to himself again, he sighed and shook his head, burying his face in his hands.

"You don't have to walk me home, Adam," a soft voice rang form outside his window. Eli stiffened, and his ears perked up.

"It's almost six o'clock, it's winter, and we live in Toronto," a boy snorted. They were getting closer now, and before Eli could think twice, he darted to his window and stuck out his head. "I'm not letting you get picked up by some creepy truck on my conscience, Clare."

"Who's creepy enough to be watching me, anyways?" she laughed lightly, and for a moment Eli nearly lost his footing and went tumbling down his window. That laugh was like wind chimes, swaying gently in the breeze. That laugh was soft and sweet and girly, and was the most beautiful sound in the world. In that instance, Eli felt his body relax, and it wasn't until then that he realized how his muscles were coiled. It was as if he was ready to jump all two stories down the window to that girl.

"You're pint-sized. You'd be easy to store in a car trunk. In a briefcase, even."

"Your thoughts are pleasant, Adam," she said teasingly.

"Oh, you wouldn't _want _to know what my thoughts are like."

"TMI, Adam, TMI."

Heart swelling and eyes never tearing away from the two, Eli listened to their playful banter until they were out of the earshot. He almost contemplated running out the door and following them, just to match the voice of the journal he had to the girl who wrote it. The phone had rang, snapping him out of his insane plan, thank God for that. Eli wasn't sure he had enough willpower to resist doing something completely crazy, with just common sense by his side.

The glared back at him, reading a familiar name.

"Hey Fiona," he greeted, pressing the phone to his ear. He shoved all the trash from his bed onto the ground and sat on his bed, Indian-style.

"So have you decided yet?" she asked, elegant voice piercing Eli's ear. It wasn't that her voice was screechy or nasally or anything- on the contrary, Fiona had quite an exquisite voice that attracted most people. But in comparison to Clare, everything sounded hoarse and rough.

"What exactly am I deciding again?" he asked, sounding distracted.

'There's a party at my loft tomorrow, don't you remember?" she said, sounding irritated. "Today during the fire drill, I asked you. Adam was there, and you said you'd think about it." There was no mistaken the lovestruck-ness lingering in her voice, no. She was definitely heads over heels for Adam, and there was no denying it.

"I guess so," he drawled. Parties weren't usually his thing, but Ms. Coyne had insisted on starting off the move in a positive matter. What better way was there to connect than to have a get-together with all her friends? After all, it's not like Eli knew anyone from here, given that he was from Ottawa.

"You're killing me with excitement here, Eli."

"Sorry, Fi, I'm just a little distracted. I'll be there, I promise."

"Good. Now, I want to make sure everyone from all your classes are attending – oh, and make sure you bring a date! You cannot come to the party without a date."

Eli grimaced at the screen, pretending it was Fiona. "FI, you know I don't-"

"I know, I know," she said, sounding apologetic. "But you need to get out of that emo cave of yours sooner or later, and what perfect way to do that with a new atmosphere?"

"Yeah, okay," he grumbled, tossing the phone to the corner of his room before biding her good-bye.

"Eli? What was that? Did you drop something?" Bullfrog called from the other side of the wall.

"No dad, go to sleep," he mumbled, wishing everyone would just stop bugging him. He just wanted to be alone. Couldn't anyone see that?


	4. Chapter 4

**And here is chapter four! I actually already have chapter five written up, and I kind of want to have some fun with this. Let's just say... that with x number of reviews, I'll upload the next chapter! S review, review, review!**

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><p><strong>Clare: <strong>

Clare sat against her locker, desperately wishing Adam wouldn't come find her and her answer. She didn't want to go to some party and his girlfriend's place; she didn't want to do anything where there were a lot of people. The mere thought of loud music blaring through a system of speakers gave her a throbbing headache, and the idea of drunken teens dancing and slurring around made her shiver. One perk of being a wallflower, no one invited you to parties. She couldn't imagine having to make up multitudes of excuses of why she couldn't ever attend. She was terrible liar, and thrived at either blurting the truth or keeping quiet.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed something that easily stood out from this insipid place. That something was clad in black, wearing a guitar-pick necklace around his neck and a black-stoned ring on his thumb. That something was Elijah Goldsworthy.

She quickly ducked her head, remembering her previous vow to stay away from him. This boy just screamed trouble, and trouble was the last thing she needed.

"I can still see you, Edwards," he smirked, stopping right before her. His boots were almost touching her dainty shoes, and she could feel her toes curling at the proximity.

"And I can still see you," she said, getting on her feet. "Glad we cleared this up."

His eyes shined with amusement.

"Um." She glanced around uncomfortably. "Why are you here?"

"Well, it all started out seventeen years ago, when my parents decided to physically explore their relationship-"

"That's not what I meant," she glared, looking repulsed.

"Well, then, enlighten me, Edwards. What _did _you mean," he challenged, raising one brow. The smirk still played on his lips, and his snarky comments were beginning to infuriate her even more. Yesterday, he was all but pelting fireballs in her face, and today, he was teasing her?

She composed herself, drawing a patient breath. "What do you want, Goldsworthy?" she asked wearily, brushing the dirty off her skirt and looking up at him with no fear.

He pressed his lips together in a tight line, catching on to her foul mood. "My locker's here."

"Oh, well, I'll just get out of the way, then," she said breezily, intending to leave as quickly as she could. But Saint Clare could not leave knowing that she had left someone with a frown on his face, and against her better judgement, stayed.

"Can I help you?" he asked softly, repeating what he had said the previous day.

She bit her lip, feeling out of herself. It wasn't like her to force conversation like this, but she felt like she had a responsibility to make things right with this person. "I don't think…think that we got off on the right foot. Maybe we could start over?"

He gazed at her, clearly amused by the turn of table. "Maybe. And maybe you could explain to me why you were looking at me so strangely yesterday."

"And maybe you could explain to me why you snapped at me yesterday."

"Touché, "he said, earning a small, shy smile from the girl peering curiously at her.

"I think you have nice eyes," she blurted, averting her gaze at once. She could not believe she had just said that out loud. He must think she was a freak now. "Your irises, I mean. T-they're a pretty colour."

"I thought that was you," he smiled genuinely. Not a smirk, but a smile. Clare looked shyly at him, feeling her insides bubble with a new, joyful feeling. Her heart was beating erratically, and her palms were sweaty, but she for once in her life, she felt elated. So elated, in fact, she didn't think she would need her journal at all today.

"Are you going to tell me why you were so harsh yesterday?" she asked warily, careful not press. Simply, she just wanted to keep the conversation going, all heedful warnings pushed aside.

"That was wrong of me," he said, smile dropping at once. "I-I didn't know you, so I didn't know how to react."

"It's okay," I said soothingly, trying to erase any guilt he held even when truthfully, his excuse was invalid.

"But I do feel like I know you more," he blurted, taking his turn to look away.

Clare looked confused; Eli simply dismissed his last comment with a shake of his head, feeling quite flustered and upset with himself. Clare didn't know that someone with an exterior as hard as Eli's was even capable of flustering, and this amused her greatly.

Eli looked up at her again, groaning when he saw that she was still staring intently at him.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"You're making me nervous with your staring and everything," he muttered, embarrassed with him. Clare giggled angelically as he ruffled his hair, looking sheepish.

"Who, me?" she asked, feigning innocence, now leaning against his locker door. Eli took this moment to drink her in, starting from the petite-sized moccasins she wore on her feet, working his way to her light-washed jeans and chunky knit sweater. Her curly hair was mussed and tucked behind her ear, short and hassle-free. Already Eli gathered that Clare was a girl who preferred simplicity, despite the many convoluted feelings her journal expressed. He took a liking in this without realizing it.

Clare, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel captivated by his gothic attire. Eli didn't strike her as the type who craved attention, but his clothing choice certainly didn't do a very good job at blending in. He had a mysterious air to him that she imagined, would only spark interest. Her thoughts ventured a little further, and soon she began to wonder if he was the type to have many girlfriends within the short span of a month, like Drew. Sure, he wasn't the traditional representation of 'good-looking', per say, but Eli was very attractive in himself. But that didn't necessarily mean she liked him, did it?

When Eli didn't respond right away (Clare couldn't see with his face in his locker, trying to cool his face down) she decided, for a reason she could not fathom, to open the conversation a bit wider. "You're new here, aren't you?" she inquired softly. "I don't think I've seen your face before."

"That might be a good thing," he chuckled.

Clare just pursed her lips to the side, contemplating asking him to join her and Adam for lunch considering he wasn't as familiar with the picnic tables and cafeterias and such. Then, in an instance, she realized how uncomfortable she felt about spending lunch with a stranger in spite of the recent progress. Suddenly, she was anxious, feeling much too out of herself. This wasn't who she was. She wasn't the type to be randomly asking people to spend time with her, and this change felt too different for her. After all, she was a shrinking violet. And once a shrinking violet, always a shrinking violet.

Purely out of fear, Clare kept her mouth shut, not wanting to encourage the boy and give him the wrong idea. They could not be friends, not just because he reeked of trouble, but also because she was incapable of doing so.

"We should get to homeroom," he said with a rueful smile, feeling reluctant to move even an inch. He had to suppress himself from moving any closer- how on Earth was he supposed to move away?

"I have science," she offered, anxiously rolling all her weight on one foot. Departing was the only thing on her mind now.

"Gym," he scowled. The bell rang just as he shut his locker, and Clare instinctively began to recede. What was she going to say now? _I'll see you around _was vague, but gave the idea that she really did intend on seeing him around. _Have fun in P.E _would be a stupid thing to say, considering it obvious he took no liking in this class.

"Bye," she murmured brusquely, not daring one last look at him before shambling away. Immediately she was consumed with guilt for leaving the boy who was kind enough to converse with her so abruptly. So guilty, in fact, that she considered risking being tardy for her science class just to write down all her feelings in her journal. She knew she's feel better after that, she was sure of it. However, Clare wanted to prove herself that she was stronger than that- it was unhealthy to rely so heavily on inanimate object, regardless of how useful it was to her. When 2010 comes rolling around, she had promised herself to learn to be more independent, and going cold-turkey would probably be too much to handle. For the next month and half, she would train herself by limiting her number of entries per day- instead of the average twenty per day, it would be much, much less.

She shivered as the open door she walked past enveloped her with a frosty breeze, but didn't think much of it. With her decision, she suddenly felt very deprived and vulnerable, as if she had just turned her back on a piece of herself. And it wasn't just her journal she was leaving behind.


	5. Chapter 5

**I just realized in the last chapter, I wrote "2010" instead of "2012"...**

**SOLLY SOLLY. D:**

**Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy and review! Also, tell me what you think of fimogen from the mid-season premier- personally, I love it! I love it even more knowing that imogen might be with someone else other than eli, cause you know, eclare is endgame. :)**

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><p><strong>Eli:<strong>

"Late, Goldsworthy! I want twenty push-ups in the corner, now!"

Eli tried not to cuss out loud as he dropped to the ground, and settled for muttering profanities under her breath instead. Purposely, he ha d waiting until all the guys left the change room before quickly stripping off his clothes and dressing in his required baggy shorts and t-shirt. He had shoved a black long-sleeve under his shirt, but couldn't wear pants under his shorts all while being inconspicuous. Anxiously, he tugged his shorts lower to conceal as much of the purple bruise blossoming across his thighs, but the ones on his calves had no choice but to be exposed. It was risky; people would notice, and people may start to question the reason behind the ugly marks. Coming to Degrassi, he knew he would have to lie his head off when it came to the mandatory gym classes he'd attend, but there really wasn't any other way. He needed a fresh start as much as he needed to keep his darkest secrets under wraps.

His mind wandered to his previous encounter with the girl who starred in his dreams last night, and without realizing it, his teeth grinded. She had left him so hastily, so abruptly, and all he could think about was what he did wrong. Clare had left him so quickly without an explanation, and to think that a single conversation would satisfy his desire to know her seemed completely absurd now. If anything, his thirst for knowledge had left him even more parched.

His muscles ached in protest as he lowered himself to the ground, a constant reminder of how he let himself go. Now he was paying for all the weeks he had pushed his food around, doing nothing but chugging down water and making a scene of eating. As if he wasn't already pretty scrawny for his age, not eating made him look like a walking skeleton. His mother had worried endlessly in regards to his physical and mental state, and his dad…well, his dad was a different story. But what could you expect of a person who had so cruelly taken the life of a young person? A person who had so much potential for the future, what with her stunning dark beauty and flare for painting. Julia, Eli's ex-girlfriend, would paint him hundreds of pictures- most abstract, most holding meanings too deep for Eli to comprehend. Nevertheless, he cherished every single one of them, and when the day came for him to bury every single one of the canvases beside its creator, he all but broke down in tears. Julia would have been an outstanding artist, and because of him, no one would ever know for sure.

"Emo boy's all tuckered out?" a rough voice crooned from across the gymnasium. "Maybe you and your skinny-ass pants should go back to whatever homeless shelter you live in."

A group of rambunctious boys hooted and whistled and Eli's poor attempt to finish his required push-ups, eyeing his bruised calves like they were the funniest joke ever.

"Was that supposed to be funny?" he snorted, standing on two feet. "Because it'd be a tragedy of that's that best you can do."

"Shut up, guy- liner!" the tall boy with dark hair snarled, glaring daggers at Eli. It's not like Eli was asking for trouble; he was simply minding his own business. The troublesome-looking boy couldn't expect him to just take the diss and go home, could he?

"Wow," Eli drawled sarcastically. "What a stunning display of verbal acuity."

"Boys! Hoops, now!" the coach hollered hoarsely, now roughly throwing basketballs haphazardly at his students. "Fitzgerald, I want you shagging balls!"

Fitz's glare burned a hole through Eli's forehead. It was a glare that said no one, and I mean _no-freaking-one _treated him that way. It was a glare that promised merciless revenge, and even though this infuriated Eli, knowing that he had done nothing wrong, that glare was enough to tell him that in his books, it was. It was a glare that said _this is not over._

**Clare:**

Clare listened to Fiona converse enthusiastically with a girl sitting beside her, eyes sparkling vigorously with something that is rarely seen- attentive jubilation perhaps, if that made sense? It was certainly nothing she had seen of her when she spoke to Adam, Clare had observed. In his presence, her eyes would be controlled and soft with reservation. They would seem far away, contrasting with the light smile that played on her lips. Her facial expression would be controlled, forced even, and though Adam couldn't see it, the thought had always lingered in the back of Clare's mind, the thought that Fiona didn't feel the same way. Usually, Clare would just resort to pushing all these doubts away, reminding herself that if Adam was happy, it would all be okay. But seeing how he was currently occupied with comic-reading alongside his friend Dave, and seeing how Fiona seemed to be much happier without him around, the concern returned. She couldn't imagine Fiona _pretending _to have feelings for Adam, just so that she wouldn't break his heart. Horrible as it sounded, if true, she has valid reason; most girls who knew about his situation purposely veered off as he walked down the hall, not wanting anything to do with him. Poor Adam, Clare thought. Hopefully it was all in her head.

Sitting quietly and keeping to herself, Clare wondered why Fiona had even offered her a seat when clearly, she had no intentions of talking to her. As well, she had neglected to introduce her to the girl was having so much fun with, doing no favours to Clare's discomfort. The girl was very pretty, but rather eccentric- her hair was twisted and knotted in the most peculiar way, adorned with a childish kitty headband and multiple clips. Along with her winter coat she wore black tights that cut off in the middle of her calves, and beat-up Converses with printed socks. Idiosyncratic was the first word that popped into Clare's mind.

"Okay, you are a weirdo," Fiona stated with a giggle, nudging her gently.

"Yup, and you're gonna like it," she responded playfully, grinning widely.

Clare sighed to herself, lifting her textbook to her nose as Fiona and the mystery girl ranted on and on, switching topics at the speed of light. The two seemed to be so in key with one another, and while other may perceive it as something adorably special, Clare couldn't help but feel like she'd rather be anywhere else. Their friendship was genuine and nice to see, she had to admit, but in all honestly she'd rather be anywhere else- the empty void in her chest was becoming palpable again, reminding her of her unworthiness. _Nobody wants to be your friend, nobody loves you, that's why you're always alone. _She gripped her textbook with greater force than she intended to, her breathing hitched. She couldn't turn to her journal, not now. Her eyes darted frantically around the field, searching for a reason to escape.

Biting her lip when she found something, she dived in without thinking about it. She was so desperate to leave, it had become a priority over politeness.

"I'll talk to you guys later, I need to talk to someone," she said quietly, voice barley audible. Thank goodness the two were so wrapped up with one another, otherwise, they would have noticed the slight quaver in her voice.

Dashing across the quad in the icy snow probably wasn't the most prudent move, but it wasn't until she slipped and fell on her knees that she regretted her spontaneous decision. She picked herself up and continued to run anyways, ignoring the numbing cold pain on her legs as her throat closed around a three-lettered word.

"Eli."

The dark figure turned around, clutching an ice pack to his cheek with a glower planted on his oddly pale face. His features were twisted in an angry expression, and this frightened Clare.

"What do you want?" he snapped rather harshly, all traces of warmness he held two periods ago gone.

"What happened?" she asked tenderly, her lips making a small O-shape. She didn't even wince at his callous voice, though she was hurt. Her eyebrows crinkled together, expressing concern for the injured boy before her.

"Nothing," he muttered, before turning on his heel and striding away. He was walking towards the parking lot and father away from the school, and Clare followed him.

"You're carrying an ice pack," she pointed out. "That's not nothing."

"Stop following me," he grumbled.

"Not until you tell me what happened," she said persistently. Scared as she was to be using such a strong tone towards him, her voice remained firm and steady.

"Why do you care?" he spat. "You don't even know me. Just go back to your friends and leave me in peace, will you?"

At this point, Eli was walking at such a speed that Clare could not keep up with. She sped to a light job, determined to stay by his side.

"You're being unnecessarily difficult," she whispered.

"Am I?" he rolled his eyes impatiently, now throwing his ice pack over his shoulder, narrowly avoiding Clare's face. She gasped as the hard object skimmed her hat, bending her knees to lower her height. This gave Eli a chance to wander further away from her, Clare realized. He didn't even turn back to see if he had hurt her, and his upset her.

Without giving it a second thought, she did the only thing she could think of to capture his attention: she picked up the abandoned ice pack and tossed it at him. In spite of being only a few feet away from him, she missed, and it landed beside him.

He stopped. "Did you just throw that at me?"

She gulped, scraping together what last courage she possessed. "It got your attention, so I suppose so."

He stared at her with an expression crossed between surprise, amusement, and annoyance before turning it into a grimace. Clare's gazed fixated on the visible red-purple mark etched on his face, as well as the slight swelling on his head. She bit her lip again, gnawing at it to resist giving away how she was really feeling. "You're not going to leave me alone until I tell you."

It was a statement, not a question. She nodded once.

"Gym class accident," he said curtly. "Some guy thought it'd be funny to whip a basketball at my face. It's no big deal."

"Oh, Eli," she breathed, walking towards him. Watching his shrink away as she approached was a major bruise to her none-existent ego, but it didn't stop her from reaching out to him anyway. With cool, trembling, pale fingers, she inched closer to his cheek, wanting to carefully examine the injury.

"Don't touch," he said, putting as much venom in his voice as he could. Clare shook her head stubbornly. He sounded unconvincing. She held her breath, drawing closer and closer, and she noticed that Eli's breath had halted as well. His green eyes were now focused on the blue ones mere inches away, unable to tear away. It was as if his body can ceased to function, forgetting how to do basic things such as moving and breathing- she was close, getting closer with every passing second. It wasn't much longer until her finger touched his face and-

"Move, emo boy!"

A car that seemed to come out of nowhere careened down the parking lot, approaching the two with dangerous speed. Eli paled; Clare drew her hand back in a flash, but was frozen with fear. Both caught like children sneaking out of bed, Fitz grinned at the picture before stomping on the breaks.

The rusty Volvo came screeching to a stop, leaving a razor-thin space between Eli's hip and the headlights. Clare's heart went berserk, her mind trying to process what had just happened. Her wobbling legs carried her farther away from Eli and the car, and with a petrified look on her face, she leaned against a random car parked nearby. Vertigo swept past her, and her hands were shaking like they never had before.

"You were in the way," was all Fitz said before backing away, and driving out of the lot. With a smug smile, he left the two unable to speak.

Clare glanced between the moving car and the frozen boy. Being the sharp girl she was, she was able to instantly see the connection. "He did it, didn't he? Fitz threw that basketball at you in gym class."

When Eli didn't answer, or turn to her, for that matter, Clare inhaled deeply and forced her legs to move, slowly closing the distance between her and the still boy. His lips were slightly parted, eyes too far away to read.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said gently. "Fitz is a bully- he picks on every new kid that comes around."

"The car almost hit me," he stated dully, a glassy sheet concealing his darkening eyes. An image of a young girl with black hair brushed his mind, almost giving him a mental breakdown in the middle of the lot.

"Shh, but it didn't," Clare soothed, wanting so much to comfort, but not wanting to touch him either. Her skin had never made contact with his before, and she could only imagine how he would react to her.

He looked cold, and he looked like he wasn't paying any attention to her now. His thoughts were drenched with memories of the car skidding towards them, memories of the girl he had killed two years ago.

"We need to take you inside," she murmured.

He shook his head violently. "No, I'm going home."

Eli seemed to snap out of his trance far too quickly for Clare's liking, and she wasn't having any of that. If he got into an accident on his drive home, it would be on her conscience.

"No," she said, rushing over so that she would be right in his way.

"No offence, but you can't tell me what to do, Clare," he snorted, trying to move past her. Narrowing his eyes into slits when she moved to block him again. "Fine, I won't drive. But I'm not going back to school either, and you can't make me."

Clare screwed her lisp to the side, gazing at the obstinate boy with calculating eyes. He was just as pertinacious as her, if not more, and knowing herself, there was no completely changing his mind.

"Here," she whispered, unwinding the scarf off her neck and dressing Eli in it. She adjusted it so that his neck would be warm, hands tarrying as she fiddled with perfecting it. "The least you can do is keep warm."

And with that she turned on her heel and marched towards the school, leaving a baffled boy with a woolly scarf staring incredulously at her back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews ! This is a little longer than the other chapters, and I hope you don't mind. I tend to like longer chapters, but that's just a matter of opinion. Tell me what you think! (:**

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><p><strong>Eli: <strong>

It was about three o'clock when the trembling ceased, giving Eli near full control of his extremities again. He had spent the last three hours with his back pressed against Morty's leather seat, heat turned up on full blast and loud scream-o music blaring through his ears. Three hours spent on drowning out the world, the broken, irrational feelings, and the mental picture of a swerving car now forever etched in his brain. Only after three hours, he came to his sense and realized that running from his inextricable emotions weren't doing him any favours, and so he settled for venting in his good ol' journal.

Only remembering he still had Clare's.

Which also led to realizing that Clare probably had his.

"Damn it!" he growled, pounding his fists against his dashboard. How could be have been so utterly _stupid _as to realizing this mistake now? How could he have let this slip? His journal was his pride, his everything, and now it was in the hands of someone whom he had been a total ass to. Clare didn't seem like the hostile, manipulative type, and this comforted him to some extent. She also didn't seem like she was cognizant of what she had in her possession, and that gave him the smallest glimmer of hope. Maybe, by some unbelievable stroke of luck, she had yet to read it, giving him a chance to take it right under her nose. Clearly, she was still talking to him, so he had to assume she was ignorant of this crucial fact. If she knew what really lay in the depths of his black hole of a heart, she'd be halfway across the country by now.

How on Earth would he manage to make the switch now?

"Eli?" a voice cautioned. He glanced out his car window to see a very composed Fiona Coyne with a disapproving frown on her pretty face. She seemed flushed, though, and this was rare.

"Don't tell me you skipped out today," she harrumphed, tapping her foot in a disappointed manner.

"I won't," he said sharply, rolling down his window so much as an inch. He wrinkled his nose when her musky perfume wafted past his nose, hating how artificial is smelled.

"Eli Goldsworthy, you promised your parents you wouldn't be doing this here!" she scolded despairingly. He shot her look and she glanced around quickly, and after seeing that students were starting to come out of the school, she lowered her voice. "You wanted a fresh start. You wanted a clean slate. It's not helping that you're going back to old habits again."

"I'm not, I've changed," he insisted exasperatedly. "Something just came up, and I can't deal with going to class right now. No big deal."

"We've known each other since we were eight. When you say it's no big deal, _it's an effing big deal_."

Fiona had a point. He was notorious for that very line, infamous for meaning the polar opposite. Still, they were approaching dangerous territory now, and with his already dwindling patience and mental exhaustion, this was the last place we wanted to go.

"I'm not in the mood for your little lectures, Fi," he stated shortly, cranking up the volume of his stereo. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

"I'm worried about you, Eli," she sighed wearily, rubbing her temples.

"I don't need any sympathy," he said, eyes still squeezed shut.

There was a long silence before Fiona spoke again.

"Well, as long as you come to party tonight, I won't worry too much. You need to not spend every evening moping in your room-"

"I am not moping," he cut across her acerbically.

"-and meet new people," she continued brazenly. "Besides, I already asked Cece, and she and I agreed that we will push you out the door screaming and kicking we have to. This is party is just what you need."

Eli groaned. "Thanks a lot, Coyne."

"No problem. You and your date better be at my threshold at exactly seven o'clock, or I will personally send for you," she threatened, wagging a carefully manicured finger at this direction. "I have a hair appointment, so I'll see you later."

Muttering something unintelligible as she bid him goodbye, Eli sank further down his seat. As if didn't have enough on his plate without the party.

"Wait a second," Fiona breathed, taking a double take at Eli with critical eyes. She squinted at his neck. "Do my eyes deceive me…or is Elijah Goldsworthy sporting a woman's scarf?"

He glanced at Clare's scarf and took a whiff, savouring the authentic aroma of vanilla embedded in the knit material. The woolly clothing article was red and plain, and though it was different from what he usually wore, there were no immediate signs of femininity form what he could see.

"How did you know?" he asked awkwardly, wriggling uncomfortably at her now snug face. His heart skipped a beat, and he fingered the tassels. It was softer than anything he had ever felt, warmer than anything he had ever worn.

"Avoiding the question, now are we?" she smirked, eyes glinting mischievously. "So, who's this mysterious girl and why did you steal her scarf?"

"I didn't steal it!" he said defensively, much too quickly. Under her laser-beam scrutiny, Eli felt a tiny ant scrambling away from an imminent death. Fiona's leather-boot clad foot was now dangling over him, prompting him so spill all against his will.

"Does little Eli have a crush on this girl?" she cooed, cupping her face adoringly. "Oh, please grace me with the honour of knowing her name, I'd be eternally grateful!"

"S-she's nobody," he said unconvincingly. _A nobody whom I happen to know everything about. _

"On your second day, too," she mused, tapping her finger on her chin. "You bounce back fast! Oh, please Eli, please tell me! I'm your best friend, and I'm a girl! I can help you with her!"

"You'll scare her away," he complained, subconsciously bring the woolly material to his nose again, indulging himself in yet another whiff. She smelled so sweet; it was like her scent was his own personal heroin. He had to restrain himself from sniffing the scarf again, only because Fiona would probably question him. He was already in deep.

"No, I won't! I just want to know! Is she a dark beauty? I imagine her to have coppery skin and chocolate-brown eyes, or something very close to that. Is she as reckless as you are, because I can see how that would be vey fitting. Cynical, perhaps? You're killing me here!" she pouted, and Eli couldn't help but feel a grin tugging on his lips.

"Her name is Clare," he said finally, loving the way her name wrapped around his tongue. "Clare Edwards."

"Saint Clare?" she gasped, staggering backwards. "You-Clare? Really?"

"Yes, really. What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing's wrong," she assured him, looking awestruck. "You like Clare Edwards?"

"Wait a minute, I never said that. I'm just saying this is her scarf," he stammered, adding in an eye roll for effect. "I barley know her."

"Does anyone?" she said lowly to herself, absentmindedly adjusting her sleek gold blazer. It wasn't long until a small smile began to break through her face, and it was an impish one, Eli had noticed.  
>"I hope you're not scheming anything," he said.<p>

She just smiled, bouncing on her toes and winking at him. "I think my chauffer is here."

And sure enough, an extravagant limo pulled up beside her in its ostentatious glory and all, giving the girl a chance to escape. With a winning smile and quick wave, she hopped inside the vehicle and drove away, leaving Eli sitting in his hearse without a promise to hold onto.

**Clare:**

"Clare Diana Edwards, where on Earth have you been?"

"School, mom. It's only four o'clock," she explained calmly, dropping her bag on the ground and rubbing her hands together. She then kicked off her boots, dashing over the heater with intentions of de-frosting before locking herself in her bedroom. Her room was the coldest of all rooms, and she found it impossible to stay in there all the time. As much as she liked to remain in her safe statuary, free of parental screaming and fighting, it just wasn't ideal.

"School ends at three- fifteen," her mom said with a strict mien. Her arms were folded against her chest, and her face was beet-red- a sure sign that she was still recovering from a recent fight. "It takes you twenty-five minutes to walk home at the most. You should have been home twenty minutes ago, young lady."

"Sorry mom, I went to the library," she apologized quietly. "I needed to pick up a book for my English paper."

"You should have called or texted me to inform me about your whereabouts. This was very irresponsible of you, Clare. What if something happened to you? How would I know where to find you?"

"Sorry," she said again, keeping her head bowed as she picked up her bag again. She knew her mom was being unreasonable, and probably just wanted to let out some steam. It wasn't fair that she was letting it out on her, and it honestly upset her very much. But what was she to do? If she even attempted to explain her side, she'd be accuse of talking back, sparking another argument. She didn't want that, regardless of how unfair her mother was being. Belligerence was not a trait a shrinking violet possessed.

"Go to your room, Clare, and none of that attitude," her mother snapped, as if she wasn't already halfway up the stairs. "And I don't want to see you for the rest of the evening."

With a sharp exhale, Clare shut her door and leaned it against it, sliding down with her back pressed against it. Her hands balled into angry fists, lips quivering and throat constricted.

"I hate this," she whispered to herself, shifting so that she sprawled on her ground. She reached to her table and grabbed a photo frame, one with a picture of people she hoped would someday return. It was her mom and dad, smiling and holding each other like how she remembered. Darcy had her arm around Clare, grinning and rolling her eyes as her sister held up a goofy peace sign. How could things have changed so drastically over the past year?

There was a vibration in the pocket Clare's jeans. Reluctantly she reached in and held up her cool silver phone to eye level, tapping the center key. _I foresee a phone call from a beautiful girl in your future, Clare Edwards. A taco says it'll be in two. –Adam _

Without a heartbeat to spare, her phone began to ring loudly, and Clare smiled bleakly at herself as she brought it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Clare Edwards, if I'm correct?"

"Yes, may I ask who this is?" she inquired politely, tugging on one of her light caramel tendrils.

"Oh Clare, have you forgotten my voice already?" the voice laughed. "It's Fiona!"

Clare bit her lip. She felt embarrassed for not recognizing her voice, but reasoned that embarrassment by her unfamiliarity with Fiona in the first place. She only met her through Adam, and though the two share brief smiles when the opportunity arises, or when Adam was in the mix, they knew nothing of each other apart from what their reputations said of them. It was awkward between at the very least, and Clare almost wished she hadn't called- she was in no mood to be dealing with anything else other than her mother and her inexcusable behaviour.

"Hello, Fiona," she said quietly. "I don't think I'm that familiar with your voice quite yet."

"That's okay, we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other when you sleep over tonight," she gushed. "Oh, I'm so excited, Clare, we'll have a great time, I promise you that!"

"I- tonight?" she squeaked, hoping she meant it as a joke.

"Yes, I'm hosting a party tonight, and I've invited you already. Adam said you haven't given him an answer yet, but that's okay Clare- bear! I know you're thrilled about coming over! I'll have the limo pick you up in five, okay?"

"Fiona, I can't sleep over tonight- at all, really," she apologized, truly wondering what has given her such an idea. "My mom would never let me."

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little mind; just give the phone to her. I can be very persuasive, you know," she pressed.

"I-" Clare glanced to her door, sweat collecting on her palms. "My mom can be…very adamant," she protested weakly.

"Trust me, I think I can handle her," she reassured determinedly.

Bounding across her room and gently twisting her door knob, Clare tip-toed across the hall and peered down the stairs with her hand firmly holding the banister. Her mom was sitting alone in the dining table with a cup of cold coffee in her hand, a grimace evident on her face. As Clare squinted harder, she realized that in her other hand was a pen, and on the table was a picture of her father's face with scribbles and holes punctured all over his neck.

And this was _supposed _to be a happily married couple.

There were a million reasons why she shouldn't even be considering the idea. One being that she and her mom had already on the edge for quite some time now, and she wasn't exactly in the greatest position to be asking for favours. Two being that parties were not her scene- she could already imagine the potential awkwardness of standing in the corner while everyone chattered easily amongst each other, another cruel reminder of how little friends she had. Three being that she was extremely nervous, and afraid of how her mother would react to this spontaneous request. She was scared to speak with her mother, let alone stand up for herself. This would certainly be pushing the envelope for Clare.

Slowly bringing her phone back to her ear, Clare spoke even softer than she did before, prompting Fiona to smash hers against her head just to be able to hear the words she said.

"Will there be drinking?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Clare: **

Fiona held up her curling iron upwards against Clare's head for what seemed to be the umpteenth time, shifting from side to side in rhythm with the female vocalist singing on the radio. Perched on her vanity table with Clare sitting in front of her elegant mirror, and after having vehemently insisting that her curls just needed a little extra "oomph", Fiona beamed at her reflection before glancing at the small girl before her.

"And…we're done!" she exclaimed brightly, standing on her feet to allow Clare a better view of herself. She roughly shook an aerosol can full of hairspray, before generously spraying it all over Clare's head.

"It looks nice," she commented, gingerly twirling a loose strand.

"Oh, no, you're not done yet," she said, pushing Clare back down as she tried to get up. With a wicked glint in her eye, Fiona held up an enormous bag of makeup and plopped in on the table. As she zipped it open, revealing the contents of the bag, Clare stifled; she had little experience with any of this, and to say that she was worried would be an underestimation. She was terrified of looking like a clown, and what with her poor self-esteem, Clare was certain that the end result would not be pretty, even if she was under the magnificent works of Fiona Coyne herself. As far as Clare was concerned, the only miracle-worker here was God.

"Could you…not put on _too _much?" Clare asked tentatively, wincing at how insecure she sounded.

Fiona pouted. "But what's the fun in that?"

"Fiona," she admonished.

"Fine," she sighed dejectedly, screwing the cap of her eyeliner. She thought for a second. "No major winged-out eyes. Can I at least line your eyes lightly, and maybe coat your mashes with a little mascara? You have gorgeous eyes; it'd be a crime not to play them up."

"Would that be it?" she asked.

She frowned deeper, but nodded.

"Then I give you sanction."

"Fine, fine, but you're missing out. Can I dress you up later, at the very least?" Seeing the hesitant look in Clare's blue eyes, Fiona quickly switched tactics. "Oh please, Clare-bear, _pleeeease _can I dress you up? It would mean the absolute _world _to me!"

"Fine," she sighed in defeat, crossing her arms as an excited squeal erupted from the girl beside her.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cheered, grinning widely at her. Clasping her hands together, she struggled to adjust her features so that it was calculating and methodical. Lips screwed to the side, she carefully examined Clare's doll-like lashes. They were already quite long and thick- a gifted Fiona only wished she was blessed with. She sighed enviously as she fixed up the girl, appreciating what natural beauty sat in her very room. Eli had very good taste, to say the least. Even Julia, beautiful, slender, front-page magazine-worthy Julia could never pull off Clare's effortless, innocent loveliness. And yet, in spite of this, Fiona was still unable to fathom the reason for his liking in her- after all, Clare was nothing like him. She was far too pure, and far too naïve to fit into Eli's dark and complex world.

Suddenly, Clare's phone was buzzing in her pocket. _Having fun? –Adam_

_She's doing my makeup. You tell me._

_Don't complain. Drew just came into my room and asked me to differentiate between soap and shaving gel. Guess which one he's using for the first time?_

_Should I worry?_

_Nah. Just think of his nicks and cuts he'll have in certain areas as revenge for all the times he's licked you. Consider it a gift from me to you._

_Haha, right, I owe you one. I'll have to talk to you later tonight; I am required to dress up for the princess this very moment._

_Send your majesty all my love._

_Will do._

"Adam sends you his love," Clare said, watching her carefully.

"Um, that's great," she mumbled, suddenly fussing over the zipper of her make-up bag. She frowned before perking up again.

"Now, to show you the wonderful world that is my closet!" Fiona bubbled, seizing Clare's wrist and dragging her out of the room and down the hall. With a swift flick of a switch and the opening of a tall door, she gestured her inside, flinging her arms out like a Vegas showgirl. "Ta-dah! These are all the clothes I haven't worn since they came off the rack, so they're spanking new. What do you think?"

All Clare could do was gawk at the endless row of clothes that ran down the ample room, dressing hundreds of hangers with flamboyant prints, sensational colours, and blinding sequins. Everything from faux fur to the most delicate chiffon occupied the very closet, the impossibly wide range and large quantity outdoing almost every mall in the province. For most, the price tag remained attached and neglected, and purely by impulse Clare reached over and looked at the price- immediately shoving the white ticket away when she processed a three- digit number.

"This is…"

"Fabulous? Glamorous? Breathtaking?" Fiona suggested, beaming at her collection.

"All of the above," Clare breathed, feeling very overwhelmed. "Why are you doing this?"

"What do you mean, Clare-bear?"

"Why are you suddenly doing all these nice things for me? I- we don't exactly know each other that well." She said quietly, shyly glancing at her. "I can't accept all of this Fiona, it's too much."

"Any friend of Adam is a friend of mine," she insisted firmly, averting her gaze. "And I'd be more than happy to do this for you. I just want to know the kind of person- the kind of style you have. What you like and dislike and such, because it uh, says a lot about your character. Nothing sinister, I promise you."

"I appreciate the effort," Clare said gently, smiling warmly at her. "But I don't think I'm fit to wear any of this. It's just not who I am."

"But Clare!" Fiona cried, crossing her arms. Her frown slipped into a pout, and within a matter of seconds, the same pout twisted into a scowl. "You think you're too good for this stuff?"

"What? No, of course not!" Clare said, taken aback.

"Saint Clare, pure as her purity ring thinks she's above frivolous partying and silly glittery dresses?" Fiona spat, glaring at her with newfound fire. "Well, I'm sorry that all of this is much too low for your standards, Clare. I didn't expect you to be so picky."

"I'm not implying-"

"I was trying to help you, that's all. But according to all your complaints, none of this is what you want. I get it, Clare," Fiona said icily.

"That's not-"

"A word of advice, maybe you should think about getting off your high horse and learn to be a bit more gracious," she continued relentlessly, waving away Clare's protests with a lazy flick of her wrist. "It's no wonder you're alone all the time. You perceive everything and everyone as inferior to you. I don't know what Eli sees in you."

"He-what?" Clare gaped.

She chuckled bitterly. "Don't worry too much about him, sweetie. He's just using you for his own personal game. Eli's good at playing ignorant little girls like you."

And that was the final blow. Clare was now on the verge of tears, desperately trying to blink through the thin film of wetness forming before her eyes. Her heart, overflowing with millions of different emotions, was ready and ripe for bursting. At lunch time earlier today, she had just dealt with a harsh Eli and a traumatic near- death experience with the careening car. Half an hour ago, she had soldiered through yet another unreasonable lecture from her mom, and now the girl who had all but pointed a gun to her temple and forced her to be pampered pretty on her account was clawing viciously at her self- esteem? What was next, a failing grade in English due to a teacher's careless handling with her assignments? Coming home to realize there was a cancerous cell surfing through her body, slowly causing damages until her impending death? Where was the justice, the fairness? Clare hadn't done anything morally incorrect, hadn't given anyone a reason to punish her. So why were all these terrible things happening to her, for reasons that she weren't responsible for? Clare had a good mind to let Fiona know just how unreasonable and diva-like she was acting, or even give a good ol' fashion slap on her right cheek. It occurred to her that racing out the house was not a bad idea either, and for a moment, all her weight was on the balls of her feet, ready to sprint past her and out the door. That's what any normal person would do, Clare decided, and as tempting as it was to cope with her boiling, building emotions that way, the sensible, bigger part of her overruled all the easy outs. Clare was better than that.

"Thank you for telling me in advance, then. You probably know Eli more than I do, anyway," she said calmly, swallowing deeply.

Fiona looked shocked and unsatisfied, and stepped backwards with a small gasp escaping her lips.

"And I'm sorry that you feel this way about me," Clare went on, handling matters in the most mature way. "But I hope you do understand that I prefer the person I am, and like to stay grounded- I am by no means implying my superiority to what is important to you."

She pressed her lips together, gaze never leaving. This must have been the longest Clare's spoken all at once, and her throat felt oddly dry from all the talking- either that or she was just nervous about the response she was going to get. She anticipated more resentful words, a screaming lecture, or a simple 'get-out' would have even sufficed. She was at her house, after all. Angering the owner probably wasn't the most prudent move, but in her defense, it wasn't done intentionally, and she hoped her argument would be effective enough when she came crawling back onto her mother's doorsteps.

Fiona's reaction was nothing short of unexpected.  
>"Oh Clare-bear!" she squealed, throwing her arms around the stunned girl. "You past the test! You passed with flying colours, and I'm super proud of you!"<p>

Confusion now dawned on her, and as she pulled away, Clare looked at her.

"I was testing you to see how you would react to my-well, bitchiness," she explained, taking a strand of her shiny brown hair and inspecting for split ends. "It's like the ultimate test to see what kind of character you have. The only other person I've tried it on was Julia, and she blew up in front of my face. Slapped me so hard I couldn't process the sting until she was on her motorcycle riding home."

"Julia?" Clare asked, cocking her head to the side in curiosity.

"Julia is E-"Fiona cut herself off, guilt flashing in her face before she scrambled to recover. "She's just this other girl I knew. Bottom line is, you handle the situation amazingly, and you've definitely earned my respect."

Clare gnawed on her lower lip, unresponsive.

"Oh, please don't be mad at me," Fiona implored, placing a hand on Clare's shoulder. "I just- you would be amazed at how many people use me solely for my money. I needed to know how um, you really are and all."

Fiona's rationalization would have sounded suspicious if it wasn't for how loud Clare's relief was. She was glad Fiona wasn't really upset with her, grateful that she hadn't lost a potentially strong friendship. She didn't register the slight stutter in her voice, or the fact that Fiona was the worst liar in the world, and perhaps, that was best. She would find out why this test was so important in the near future, and that was enough.

For the next five minutes, Fiona and Clare remained in mildly- awkward silence, shuffling through racks and racks of fancy evening wear. Reluctant to break the ice, Clare pretended to have the least bit of interest in what she was doing. Being with Fiona was like walking on egg shells, and she was afraid of setting her off again. In some way, she was kind of like Eli, in the sense that she was so unpredictable. Happy the first minute, angry the next- a volatile pair, the two of them. What on Earth was she getting herself into?

"So, how do you know that I've talked to Eli before?" Clare asked cautiously, curiosity a clear ring in her voice.

"I've seen you talk to Eli," she answered nonchalantly, eyes tightening. "Are you two friends?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that," she murmured uncomfortably. "We barely know each other."

"That's alright. But you should know, that I am quite protective of Eli," she said in a low voice, as if threatening her. "You should be aware of what you're getting yourself into. One mistake, and there are certain people who will make your life hell."

"I…okay," Clare said. Fiona's massive mood swings were starting to give her whiplash, and not only that, but she felt as if Fiona was trying to tell her someone in an indirect way. "Do you…not want me to talk to him or something?"

"I didn't say that," she said hastily, but didn't deny it either. "I'm just saying that you should watch your step, for the benefit of him, and yourself. Anyways, we have an hour to find you something fabulous, so why don't we start with this?"

And before Clare could protest, she found herself facing the walls of a small dressing room, a streak of uncertainty and distress etched across her mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**sjfhisofs i just watched tonight's episode for next weeks promo #no sweet mother of eclares, that flashmob was brilliant. eli's dancing was brilliant. the prospects of imogeli is not brilliant.**

**Anyways, enjoy and review!**

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><p><strong>Eli: <strong>

"You did _what_?" Eli asked tersely, mouth dropping agape and eyes widening to the size of Frisbees.

It was five minutes to seven, and guests were already starting to pour in. Fiona quickly fell into her own personal aura of bubbly sophistication as she greeted every single person, brandishing a glass of red wine in her hand. Eli's incredulous eyes followed as she flitted across the room with every knock on the door, growing increasingly irritated as she continued to stall.

"I just put on a simple act," she shrugged, as if it had been no big deal. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't making a mistake."

"You're not my mother!" Eli snapped heatedly, reaching out and grasping her shoulder. "Stop meddling in all my relationships, Fiona, it's not up to you."

"I just want the best for you, Eli," Fiona said, rolling her eyes and wriggling out of his firm hold. "Excuse me for wanting the best for you."

"Leave me alone," Eli muttered through clenched teeth. This was exactly why he was so reluctant to tell her any of this in the first place- Fiona wanted to be in the know of every relationship anyone was in, and it infuriated him to no end. It was almost as if she found her own relationship unsatisfying and uninteresting, ergo the desire to be involved in every other in Degrassi. Worst yet, Eli would never be able to escape her eager clutches, seeing that their families were close friends. His parents would only welcome Fiona with open arms, and it wouldn't matter to them if he couldn't stand her. She was family, and simply, the damn title gave her the highway to every area of his life.

But even with that as an inexcusable excuse for behaving the way she was, Eli couldn't help but ponder further upon her seemingly selfless intentions. Though he wanted so much to accept the fact that Fiona was just looking out for him, he was hesitant to believe so easily. There had to be another reason, because even though Fiona was a generally good person, she was rich. Rich and slightly snobbish, slightly hedonistic, and slightly selfish. Caring always travelled to a certain extent with her, an extent that Eli could not think highly of.

"You know I'm not going to do that," she said resolutely, oblivious to Eli's escalating temper. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have guests to entertain. Go mingle, make friends!" And with a flip of her hair and a shooing motion of her hand, she turned on her heel and walked straight in a large crowd of teenagers, disappearing completely. It was obvious, then, that she had no desire to further discuss this subject of matter, and would remain obstinate for who knows how much longer.

With a grudged sigh, Eli shook his tired head and took a sweeping glance across the main foyer. Everyone looked the same; girls wear skimpy costumes and ridiculously heavy makeup, guys bumping and nudging each other with haughty expressions on their face as they wolf-whistled and hooted with one another. It was ludicrous how they were the same age as Eli was.

It wasn't until his eyes caught something- or rather, someone, out of the norm that instantly changed his greying mood.

Opting for a simple black skirt that flared out from her tiny waist and a pretty floral blouse, Clare seemed to once again ascertain her identity as the Saint of the school. Her modest dressing was like a breath of fresh air to Eli- only, figuratively, of course. At the sight of her, he soon had forgotten how to breathe. And being the thick-skulled fool he was, he assumed it was because of the way they ended off this very afternoon. He had completely given her the cold shoulder at the parking lot when all she wanted to know was if he was okay or not. And it wasn't the fake, pretend kind of caring that he thought Fiona had. It was as authentic as his vintage hearse, as real as real could ever be. He could see that by looking in her cool crystal eyes as they conveyed nothing but deep concern and worry for his well-being…

Oh my God, he was beginning to sound like another love-sick idiot. Clare Edwards could not care for someone like him, it wouldn't make sense to. It didn't matter if she was a Saint or not- in the end, Eli had painfully learned, everyone's the same. Clare was just like any other person in the room.

A person who was evidently uncomfortable standing by herself as hot, sweating bodies began to invade her personal space.

_I never was a people's person. In fact, I spent my whole childhood being compared to Darcy, whom I always seemed to pale in comparison to. Not only was she more outgoing than I was, but she had always been prettier and popular than I- though, the mere fact that she had numerous friends and multiple dates each week doesn't bother me like everyone expected It to. I'm perfectly content with keeping to myself, as I quickly learned, you can't be dependent on anyone. Everyone leaves. Everyone lets you down._

_Funny story, actually. When relatives came over, they seemed to delight in tearing me down with innumerable snubs and petty insults, only to be disappointed when I didn't give them a satisfactory reaction. I suppose their hatred for me had only begun to rocket then, but that's okay. Pretending is okay, and so is being hated. The world is a little less black and white that way, and I'll just have to deal with it._

Eli remembered reading that passage very clearly; he remembered how the pencil he had been holding snapped in his very hand from unconscious antipathy. He remembered that moment very well, because it was the first time he had written in a response on the lines under it.

_I won't let you down, Blue-Eyes. _

Blue-Eyes. He smiled goofily at the name he had made up for her, remembering how his thoughts had been consumed with images of her eyes at the time.

"What are you grinning about?" someone asked softly, curiosity weaving through her voice.

Eli was suddenly aware of the subtle scent of vanilla evading his sense of smell, and gazed down to find its source. Her pale skin glowed in the dim lighting like the moon on a clear night.

"'Hi Eli, how are you?' Fine Clare, thanks for asking," he said, playfully mocking. Her presence was suddenly intoxicating, and Eli found himself struggling to channel his usually eloquence. So he reached for the tactic he could scrape together the easiest- sarcasm.

"So what, it's sarcastic Eli today? What will it be tomorrow? I'm dying of curiosity," she said, attempting to sound light and joking. A faker, like she had said in her journal. But Eli knew her more than she thought he did, and saw right through her pitiful attempt at concealing her hurt.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he whispered earnestly, feeling nothing but immense guilt. She averted her gaze as soon as she felt him search her, a defensive mechanism Eli was far too familiar with.

"I forgive you," she said, giving him another false smile.

"Then you forgive too easily," he snorted. He pressed his lips together and sighed, softening the bitterness of his tone. "I was not in the right state yesterday, and I wasn't thinking clearly. Still, it was inexcusable for me to be acting like a total jackass to you, and I'm really, really sorry."

He noticed how Clare winced at his use of profanity, and mentally cussed at himself for making that mistake. "Sorry again," he murmured wretchedly, trying again. "Sorry I'm such a bum-bum."

She laughed, immediately Eli perked up. He had been so worried that he'd never hear the sweet sound again- the one like bells and wind chimes and other pretty things. His heart swelled at the sound of the most angelic laughter in the world, his muscles relaxing yet again when the warmth environed him, wrapping him in the warmest embrace. How amazingly calm and at ease he felt, and how wonderfully peculiar it felt having something so unfamiliar stir in his stomach! Words were not capable of describing the feeling that was flowing through him.

"What do you want me to say? If I tell you I forgive you, you won't believe me," she said, smiling gently at Eli.

"Let me prove it," he insisted, reciprocating her smile. He needed to make this better, he needed to earn her forgiveness the right way.

She glanced down and fiddled with the hem of her skirt, lifting it up slightly and revealing the creamy skin on her lower thigh. Eli gulped nervously, unable to tear his eyes away from where her hands played. He adjusted his red skinny tie anxiously, hoping to pass off as nonchalant.

"What do you have in mind?" she asked shyly, blushing a faint red. Eli's insides soared, and his ego engorged.

"Well, Edwards, you tell me," he said, emerald eyes glinting. "Your wish is my command."

**Clare:**

A small giggled escaped her pink lips, as she considered taking him up on his offer. Purposely keeping her face neutral, Clare had successfully fooled Eli into thinking that she was only thinking of what she wanted him to do. Secretly, Clare's persistent inner voice was screaming _Mayday! Mayday! Leave at once!_ , and she knew exactly why. So why was she finding it so hard to obey a simple command? Eli= trouble. It was as straightforward as that, anyone could see. But what was Clare beginning to see, exactly?

Suddenly, Eli's phone started to ring, interrupting the deep-set trance they were in. In an instant, the two were shaken into reality, and Eli fumbled to shove his hand in his pocket.

"Sorry," he muttered, and Clare nodded understandingly as he turned his back to answer his call. Whoever had decided to call him at this moment had impeccable timing, for Clare needed a small breather. She maneuvered her way through the crowd, finding the safety of the food table at her disposal. Haphazardly grabbing an hors d'oeuvre to nibble on, Clare sighed pleasurably as the flavour entered her taste buds, and ended up taking another one to put in her mouth.

Then out of nowhere, a pair of large hands come at her and tickled her sides, causing Clare to let out a squeak and throw her dessert up in the air.

"I'd love some, thanks Clare," Drew said blissfully, staring at the piece of food that was now resting on his nose. He stuck out his tongue in an attempt to drag it closer to his mouth as Clare gasped and slapped his shoulder. "Noooo," he moaned, as the hors d'oeuvre jumped off his face and onto the floor. He eyed it mournfully as it lay limp on the ground, holding his sorrowful stomach as it felt the lost.

"Is it too much to ask for some warning?" Clare asked wearily, pressing her palm to her forehead.

"That just kills it," Drew shrugged, greedily scooping up a handful of chocolate éclairs and proceeding to shove them down his throat. "Anyways, do you know where the other Torres is? You know, shorter, not as hot as the one standing before you? I can't find him anywhere, and I need to remind him that mom changed our curfew."

"I haven't seen him," she said quietly, flinching a bit as Drew continued to shovel large quantities of chocolate in his mouth.

"He's not around Fiona," he said, sounding muffled from his full mouth. Clare shrank back, narrowly avoiding the crumbs that came flying out. Drew grinned at her discomfort.

"She has been busy," she stated uneasily, feeling the need to defend their relationship.

"I always came because I heard you're having one of them girly sleepovers here tonight. Can I come too?" he asked, giving her another toothy grin.

"Always thinking about Adam's feelings, are you," she shook her head disapprovingly.

"I'm sure Fiona would feel very comfortable with that," he laughed, nudging her playfully. That was Drew Torres for you- lighthearted, easygoing, and without a care in the world. If only Clare could be half as ignorant as he was, then maybe the world would seem less grey.

"Whoa," he said suddenly, gawking at something from behind Clare's head. Following his gape, she found none other than Bianca DeSousa sauntering in the room, hips swaying form side to side in a flirtatious manner. She flashed Drew a wry before turning on her heel and making her way towards a group of football guys, wild curly hair flipping as she did.

"A stunning display of verbal acuity, Mr. Torres, "Clare praised him.

"Thanks," he said, sounding confused but very pleased with himself at the same time. He grinned and waved at her before trotting off to Bianca, flipping his collar as he did. Clare smiled a little, shaking her head once again. Apparently, he saw it as a compliment.

Her feet were starting to get sore again from standing around for so long, and she contemplated sitting down on one of the comfy loveseats the in main room. But that meant being around more people, and the thought alone was enough for Clare to resort to sucking it up.

The clacking sound of shoes was getting louder and louder, prompting Clare to lift her head.

"Eli? Are you…okay?" Clare asked, seeing the clearly disturbed boy walk towards her.

"Give me a call when you decide," was all he said. His eyes were too far away to read, and his face gave away nothing. On a white napkin was his number scrawled messily with a black pen, and Clare took it wordlessly, briefly glancing at it before folding it up. It was the last thing he said before taking off, leaving Clare in the middle of the room by herself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi guys ! You may have noticed that I'm uploading this a little sooner then I usually do, and that's mainly due to the fact that this chapter is a little shorter than I would like it to be- you'll see that the later chapters are quite lengthier. I also didn't initially plan on writing this, but I realized that I needed to fill a few holes.**

**Thank you again to those of you who took the time to write me long reviews ! I'm going to be honest when I say this:**

**Reviews= faster updates.**

**They fuel my creativity. ;)**

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><p><strong>Clare:<strong>

"What a night!" Fiona exclaimed blissfully, collapsing on her exquisite makeup chair in her silky nightgown. "You look exhausted, Clare. Tell me, did you enjoy the party?"

Clare sat on the guest bed, face dressed in a pensive expression and brows knit together. She couldn't get Eli's face out of her mind, the very face he had on before he left her without a warning. How his face had darkened like cloth that had been soaked in the rain worried her deeply, and she suspected that the phone call he received had been a large contributor to his sudden austereness. But with what little knowledge she had of Eli's personal and social life, this piece of information had barely narrowed it down. What could he possibly have been thinking with those unfathomable eyes of his?

"Clare? Clare!" Fiona touched her shoulder gingerly. "Are you alright?"

"What? Oh, I'm sorry," Clare whispered, gazing at her with doe-like eyes. "It was great, thanks for inviting me. Did you spend a lot of time with Adam?"

"Never mind that," she said hastily. "I want to hear about your experience."

"It was fun," Clare answered inadequately. "The food was good."

"And the people?" Fiona pushed, keeping her eyes on the makeup wipe she was tugging loose from the packaging.

"I didn't talk to many people," she admitted sheepishly. "I spoke to Drew briefly."

"I saw you talk to Eli," she said in an accusatory tone.

"I'm not going to hurt him," Clare said defiantly. "We're friends- barley that. I've only had a handful of conversations with him."

"Listen Clare, you have to stay away from Eli," she said in a menacing voice. "Or someone _will _hurt you."

"Fiona…" Clare said softly, striving for the patience to see eye-to-eye with her. "Do you like Eli?"

The older girl's severe mien disappeared completely, shock replacing it. The surprise quickly evolved into amusement.

"You think I have romantic feelings for Eli?" she said, laughing at the absurdity of it. Clare just watched her vigilantly, searching for any traces of falsity. "Clare, that's ridiculous. Eli's not my type."

"You haven't been spending that much time with Adam, and you're unnaturally obstinate about my- whatever I have with him. You don't seem to believe me when I say that we're just a little past strangers, either," she said observantly, simply stating her thoughts.

"Adam and I just have a little disconnect lately," she explained with a sigh, giving her a rueful smile.

"And with Eli?" Clare asked gently. Fiona was hesitant, she could see, and so she placed her warm hand over hers reassuringly. "I just want to know, that's all."

She looked absolutely torn. "I don't think…"

"I don't believe you see yourself as his mother or something, Fiona," Clare said lightly. "I just need a valid reason, and I know that there is one. You can't expect me to listen to you when I don't know why, can you?"

"No," she drawled dejectedly, folding the corners of her wipe to occupy her hands.

"So enlighten me," Clare said in an even quieter, persuasive tone.

"Clare…someone's been watching you, and she doesn't want you to have anything to do with Eli."

Clare walked home the next day completely disoriented and unvigilant. Perhaps it wasn't the most prudent decision, rejecting Fiona's offer to drive her and insisting on walking on her own. It was a beautiful day, and the sun was gleaming down on her, but the lack of sleep from the previous night had seriously messed up her alertness. Getting her feet to move one after the other was harder than it should be, and her eyelids felt like stone. Thankfully, there weren't any busy intersections to cross; otherwise, Clare would have been in trouble.

_Somebody's been watching you._ She shivered involuntarily, zipping her jacket up to her neck. Fiona's deliberately evasive words were thrusting Clare to paranoia, pushing her to delve deeper into yet another worrying mindset. Seeing Eli for the first time, she hadn't expected him to come with so much as a protector of some kind. Maybe this was a sign telling her that she and him weren't meant to be together in anyway. Maybe, they were just meant to stay on different paths, different roads that didn't involved each other. Maybe, bringing home his phone number written on the clean napkin wasn't the best idea.

She had promised her mom that she'd be home by dinner at the latest- it was ten am right now, and facing her was the last thing she wanted to do. Even if she wasn't home, the thought of submerging herself in solitude was uninviting- mixed along with her missing journal, she would just be dealing with angst at its finest.

So in an act of desperation and need to not be alone, she made a detour. She turned to the one person she knew would always be there for her, regardless of her spontaneity.

"Please be home," she whispered to herself, tapping the snow off the soles of her boots on the porch step. She rang the doorbell and inhaled.

"Clare?" Adam mumbled, squinting at the generous amount of sunshine pouring in his house. His hair was a mess, and it obvious that Clare had woke him up.

"Adam, who's at the door?" someone called loudly from behind.

"It's just Clare," he hollered back half-heartedly, opening the door wider so that she could come in.

"What?"

"IT'S CLARE," he screamed back, a scowl evident on his face. "Geez, Mama Torres needs to get her ears checked."

"I heard that Adam," she called.

"Oh so that she hears," he muttered, stumbling blindly to the couch and flopping down on it. "What's up?"

"Aren't you just a beautiful ray of sunshine this fine morn," she said teasingly, taking a seat on the armchair.

"I hate mornings," he grumbled, curling up in a ball. Clare chuckled.

"Sorry I had to interrupt your much-needed beauty sleep. I just… couldn't go home."

"Still haven't found your journal?" he asked.

She shook her head despairingly.

"You could always get a new one."

"It's not the same," she sighed despondently. Adam wasn't a writer; he wouldn't understand. In addition to that, Adam was a perpetually happy person (with the exceptions of mornings) and was probably very foreign to anything depression-related. Not that Clare was clinically proved to be depressed, but she did struggle with some difficult feeling. She wouldn't show it, though- no, showing it would mean that she was weak, and she had to be strong. Strong was good. Strong was better than being...not strong.

"I'll keep my eyes peeled," he offered. "But in the meantime, I need a serious up in energy. Drew's over at Bianca's, and I need a video game partner. Interested?"

"Tempting, but video games aren't really my scene," she smiled sadly. "But I'll watch you. Better yet, I'll make you breakfast. That is, if Mama Torres hasn't yet."

"She's busy with some paperwork, so if you're that desperate for a distraction, go on ahead," he mumbled, rolling off the couch and crawling blindly towards the TV. "Oh God, Clare, if you weren't my best friend or in such a sad state, I'd would have slammed the door on your face."

"Well, thanks for letting me in," she said graciously.

On most days, when both Torres brothers were home, she felt more at ease here than she did at her own house. Her father was never home, always coming up with mindless excuses for his constant absences. Between work, grocery shopping, and being out with his co-workers, Randall Edwards never seemed to have time for his immediate family, and this infuriated Clare's mother very much. Only, because her father wasn't ever home to deal with her anger, poor her would take it all out on poor Clare, who was defenceless without her sister by her side.

Not wanting to be rude for barging in on such short notice, Clare decided to stop by Mrs. Torres' office to say hello.

"Good morning, Mrs. Torres," she greeted pleasantly, stopping just shy of the entrance.

"Hello Clare, you're up early," she said curtly, with her typically strict demeanor. "I'm afraid Drew is still asleep, and will be long after you leave."

Clare just smiled politely, unsure of what else to say.

"Adam tells me you've received the English award for your grade nine year," Mrs. Torres said conversationally, with a nod of approval. "That's quite the accomplishment."

"Thank you," she said, looking at her feet and frowning at the very memory. How everyone had looked at her when she walked up the stage, how dangerously close she was so fainting right then. How equilibrium was the last thing she was able to reach, and how vertigo swept past her like a violet wave. Public speaking, public _anything _was not her thing.

Finally in the kitchen, Clare poked her head in the fridge, pulling out a couple slices of cheese and a carton of orange juice. Simple grilled cheese was Adam's favourite. As opened the cupboard in search for some rye bread, she started to feel something slowly envelope her. It was like a shadow creeping from behind her, and she paused, instantly waking up from her mildly sleepy haze. Her hand still hovering above the plate of bread, she sharpened her senses, breath hitching purely by instincts. Then, when the right moment came, she spun around so fast her tousled curls smacked her face, hitting her before rebounding off and regaining their position at her sides.

No one was there. It was all in her head.

Feeling more uneasy by the minute, she hurriedly squashed the slices of cheese between the bread and shoved it in the toaster oven before striding to the living room with cold hands and feet.

"Adam, can I ask you something?" she asked, gingerly sitting down across from him. Already Adam was starting to get soaked in his game, as his eyes refused to tear off the screen as Clare entered the room.

"Hold on hold on hold on- okay. What is it Clare?" he said rather quickly, pausing his game. He turned to her with attentive eyes, prodding her to speak.

She took a breath, feeling strangely out of herself. She'd never been the one to share like this, never been the one to talk feelings and stuff like that. It was much easier to keep matters to herself- safe from judgement and harsh opinions. Her sordid thoughts, right down to the morbid details, didn't quite fit the innocent, scrupulous, saint-like exterior she wore, and quite frankly she didn't want people to think otherwise of her.

But Adam was her friend, and this is what friends do, right?

"Could you…be my journal for today?" she asked tentatively.

"You mean, listen to you vent and stuff?" Adam clarified, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Yes." Clare picked at a hangnail, feeling more ridiculous as Adam's prolonged silence filled the room.

"I uh, guess so," he stammered, scratching the back of his head.

"I'm not expecting an eloquent response or anything," she said swiftly. "I just need a pair of ears. You can even play your video game if you like, I just want…want someone to hear me."

"Okay," he said, unpausing his game and turning down the volume so that it wouldn't drown her out. "Go ahead."

"Well…" She took a moment to collect her thoughts. "You have to promise not to freak out on me, okay?"

"Okay, I won't. Go on, Clare," Adam said, eyes already glued to the screen.

"Okay, well.. Lately I've been thinking a lot about what Fi- this girl said to me about this other guy." She bit her lip, trying to pretend that she was writing all of this down. She environed the words being scrawled on the pages of her diary as she spoke, imagining her handwriting and familiar ache of her hand. "She's a bit...eccentric you see, and has this indirect, harsh way of telling me to stay away from him. She tells me that someone is watching me. She tells me that I am benefiting everybody if I keep my distance from him.

"I'm finding it strangely difficult to heed her ominous words, in spite of how well my common sense explains her reasoning- he's dark, and has a toxic air to him. He's erratic, seemingly troublesome, but oddly intriguing at the same time. He's like, a mystery I'm dying to unravel, a mystery that inevitably comes with consequences I can't see quite yet. It's a given. I see two sides of him, and that's what puzzles me most. He's coy, with a gentleness that I find unfitting for someone with his demeanour. He's also snarky, and has an endless supply of quips and witty comments. But he can also be very callous without a warning of some kind… he's like a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, stuffed inside an enigma. And I know I should be staying away from him, but it's hard, and I'm trying to."

Adam looked thoughtful as he stared at the frozen. She realized that he had been paying attention to her the entire time, and for some reason, this unnerved her.

"Do you… smell something burning?" he sniffed, wrinkling his nose.

"The toaster oven!" she gasped, jolting upwards and hurrying towards the kitchen.

"Hey Clare?"Adam called calmly, appearing oblivious to her frantic state. She stopped and turned to him, looking at him expectantly.

"You can't be afraid all the time," he said softly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Eli:**

Tick-tock.

Hours soon turned into days, and Clare still hadn't called him. Sure, he'd seen her around school hanging with that beanie-kid, but he made no effort to initiate any conversation. He had given her his number. The ball was in her court now.

At least, that's what he wanted to think; truthfully, he was torn between excessive nervousness and guilt, wallowing in his own self-pity. He _always _messed things up. He had let Clare seen an ugly side of him not once, but twice now. He couldn't blame her if she was scared of him, and that's what killed him. He had left her so abruptly, so rudely...would she even want to see him again? Would anyone?

"Honey, what are you doing up so early on a Saturday?" Cece asked tentatively, peeking in his whirlwind of a bedroom. He tried not to notice her flinching as she took in the extreme untidiness of his supposed sanctuary, knowing that it bothered her very much.

It was nine am in the morning, and like most teenage boys, Eli suffered from dysania. Rising before noon was a rare occasion.

"Couldn't sleep," he lied, shaking his head as Cece tried to offer him a piece of toast. He shoved Clare's journal underneath his mattress and purposely turned his head away. He didn't want her to see how pathetic he was really was, waking up just to stare at the phone.

"Well, I just came in here to tell you that your father and I will be gone for the afternoon and most of the evening. There's a concert downtown today, and he had received two tickets from the radio station- you don't mind, do you?"

"Nah, you guys go ahead," he said, looking around for a clean pair of pants and shirt. "I was planning on staying home the whole day, anyway. It'd be nice to have some time to myself."

"You can have a few friends over if you like," she encouraged. She hesitated, setting the plate down on his bedside table. "Fiona told me about a girl you met at school. She was at the party-"

"Mom," he groaned, scratching his head.

"-and her name is Clare, isn't it? You can invite her over-"

"Stop it," he complained.

"-as long as you remember the ground rules." She paused to draw a breath, chuckling and cupping her face as she watched her baby boy turn faintly red. She put a finger under his chin. "I don't want any little eclares running around any time soon."

"Eclare? Really?" Eli whined, grabbing a pillow and mashing his face into it.

"Eli and Clare of course!" she exclaimed brightly, clasping her hands together excitedly. "I even took the liberty to make up your couple name, that's how much I ship you guys!"

"This is not happening," he moaned, flopping down on his belly with his pillow still smashed against his face. He sounded muffled, and Cece just clicked her tongue and folded her arms against her chest.

"Stop being such a baby, baby boy," she chided him. "And speaking of babies, I hope you make beautiful ones. With your dashing good lucks and- oh shoot, I haven't met her yet, have I? Elijah Goldsworthy, why haven't you invited her over yet? I don't-"

"La la la," Eli sang in an obnoxiously loud tune, cupping his ears and squeezing his eyes shut.

"You two would be my otp ship!" Cece gushed, clapping cheerfully. "That's 'one true pairing' if you don't know."

"Yes I do know," Eli muttered, promptly getting on his feet and bending down to pick up the first article of clothing he could find. In his haste to escape his mother's wistful thinking, he picked up an old, holey Deadhands t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants as well as the sunny-yellow boxers his grandma had given him for Christmas one awkward year. She had even taken the liberty to sew in a tiny pink heart at the waistband to remind him of her love- _it's like I'll be with you everywhere you go. _Cringe. "I'm gonna go shower now, mom."

"But wait! I need you to tell me more of this Clare girl!" she cried, just as Eli shut the door.

He slid his cell onto the bathroom counter before ambling to the shower. Turning the hot water on, he proceeded to slip out of his pajama pants and stepped in, feel the warmth loosen the tight knots embedded in his muscles. He arched his back and let the water droplets fall onto his hair, and slowly he began to relax.

As he lathered, thoughts of Clare immediately began to invade his mind. Thoughts of her warmth, sweet breath on her ear, her hands intertwined with his… He could only imagine how it would feel like, touching her soft, glowy face…

"Ahh, crap," he whimpered, leaning with his back against the shower wall. He continued to wash his back and shoulders, but now with trembling hands. The tension that was building was crazy, and irrational. He only had two conversations with this girl, and already she was dominating his mind.

He stiffened.

There was a sound. A sounds that was barely audible over the pounding showerhead, but a sound nonetheless. It was a sound that sounded like it was coming from…

Slowly he opened the shower curtains, eyes darting around in search of the source. Zeroing in on where it came from, a massive wave of excitement washed over him and he jumped out, wet and naked and all, sprinting towards the counter with a pounding heart and the goofiest smile on his face.

"Hello?" he asked, breathless.

A soft giggle came from the other end, and Eli swallowed nervously. "Hi, Eli, you sound like you ran a marathon."

"You got me," he laughed, pushing his dog-wet hair out of his eyes. "So Edwards, what brings you to my phone number?"

"I've decided what I want from you," she stated bluntly, and Eli tried to swallow the giant lump in his throat again.

"And what is that?"

"Come downstairs," she said, and at first he didn't register the words.

"What?" he blurted.

"And open the door," she said coyly, before hanging up.

Eli looked absolutely dumbfounded. Did she seriously mean…?

The doorbell rang, and Eli confirmed his theory. Clare Edwards was at this doorstep, waiting for him- hell, Clare Edwards found his house. He couldn't decide which was more shocking, but realized that he didn't have the time to think. Starting with a jolt, he made a frantic grab for his towel and hurriedly dried himself. He then threw it haphazardly onto the floor and started dressing himself, trying not to stumble over his own two feet as he did. Shirt in his hand and hair still a drenched mess, he wrenched open the doorknob and flew down the stairs in record time.

"Hey," he said, sounding slightly confused.

Clare's presence never failed to have an effect on him. He ogled her with apprehensive eyes as he gestured her inside, never thinking once about the cold wind stabbing at him furiously, urging him to close the door and make a beeline for his heater. He was too preoccupied by the flustered girl before him.

"So what have you decided, exactly?" he asked warily, sitting on the opposite side of the couch.

"That you should be wearing a shirt in this cold weather," she said, blushing with a small grin. "Seriously, it's almost January."

He smirked. "It's not that cold in here. There's plenty of heat to go around."

"It's not like you have a coat of fur or anything," she said stifling a smile. "You're one of them hairless cats."

"Ouch lady, you hit me where I live," he said in mock-hurt.

"You'll be okay," she said, dismissing his pain with a wave of her mittened- hand.

"And speaking of living, how did you find me? Have you been stalking me Edwards?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Clare looked embarrassed, and pulled off her mitts and hat to stall for time. "I uh, kind of asked Fiona that night, after you left the party. I hope you don't think I'm intruding."

"Really now?" he said slowly, tapping a finger on his chin. "Couldn't get enough of me?"

"Get over yourself, Goldsworthy," she said, rolling her eyes. "You just happened to be a common topic of conversation that night." Clare winked at him, tugging on the zipper of her jacket.

Did Clare seriously just _wink_?

"Oh no," he mumbled. "What did Fiona say this time?"

"Oh, nothing," she answered in an angelic tone. "Just some minor details."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" he said.

"Nope." She popped her lips at the P and grinned. "Anyways, I came here to ask you for a few things. One being, have you seen my journal around by any chance? I think I might have lost it a while ago, and I can't find it anywhere."

Eli's heart skidded to a halt. "Um, do you remember exactly where you lost it?"

"If I did, I wouldn't have this problem, would I?" she said, trying to sound light and fluffy. But Eli could detect a sense of worry and distress weaving through her voice, and for a moment, he contemplated telling her the truth. He had in right upstairs in his drawer, and he could easily return it to her. However, there was a lot stopping him from doing so. For one thing, he was afraid she would accuse him of purposely making the swap- or, if she didn't know already that his own journal as in her possession, she would make the assumption that he had stolen it. Where he stood looked very bad right now, and he didn't want to ruin their blossoming relationship like this. Not when things were going so well.

On the other note, he hadn't finished reading it. He hadn't finished reading every neatly- written word of her diary, and as much as it went against his better judgement, Eli wasn't ready to part with it. Not yet.

"I haven't seen it," he said finally, praying she wouldn't call his bluff.

"That's a shame," she sighed. "But it's okay, I'm sure it'll turn up soon."

The guilt struck him like a steel knife and Eli grinded his teeth together. He would tell her, just not now.

"Anyways, t-there's something I need to ask of you." she said hesitantly, playing her sleeves now.

"And what would that be?"

Clare smiled vaguely at him before glancing at his shirt, cocking her head to the side. She looked bemused and amused at the same time, and Eli marvelled at her. She lifted up her hand, moving it closer to his body at an agonizingly slow pace. Clare appeared to have noticed the giant fabric hole right about his belly button, and by impulse, was reaching over to poke the spot. Under normal circumstances, Eli would have swatted her hand away and called her out on her eccentric behaviour. But right now, a part of him ached for her touch, craving the unknown sensation her skin may bring. He was breathing heavily now, watching as her tantalizing finger neared the delicate skin on his stomach, wondering if it was too late to jolt backwards. No, wait, he couldn't be doing this; he couldn't be getting all riled up over this girl. He couldn't afford to be falling in so deep, when really, he was setting himself up for another disaster, another pain. He had been toxic to Julia. He killed his very own girlfriend, for God's sake, and Clare didn't deserve to be around someone as screwed-up as him. What gave him the right to fuck up another person, anyway? No, he shouldn't be doing this, damn it. It wasn't fair to Julia, and it certainly wasn't fair to Clare.

"Looks like someone had taken a bite out of your shirt," she joked lightheartedly, redrawing her hand again.

_Tease. _Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this was a sign, telling him that she drew away for a reason.

"I get hungry at night," he said defensively, weakly attempting to play along. His eyes were turning grey with guilt and self-loathing now, and he couldn't concentrate any more.

"Ravenous is more like it," she giggled, but it sounded as empty as he did. A flash of realization shot past her eyes, Eli noticed. Nothing went past her.

"I am a growing boy." Eli stared at the hole now. It looked so abandoned and lonely. "Now really, Edwards, what are you here for?"

She bit her lip, looking like she regretted coming her in the first place. But it was too late to turn back now. "There's this abandoned church in this secluded part of the area," she said thoughtfully. "And it's really nice there. I'd like to see it again, only, there's no bus route that would take me remotely nearby. By foot, it'll take at least an hour."

"And…?" Eli prompted.

"And…I'd really appreciate it if you could take me there," she finished shyly, now looking quite anxious. "I'd understand if you can't, so don't feel obligated to say yes. I just figured you have a car and a valid licence and all."

"Your parents...?"

"Would kill me if they found out I was going some place remotely dangerous." She gazed nervously at him, as if wondering if he'd judge her for her injuriousness. Truthfully, that was the last thing on his mind.

Eli was torn. Not only was Clare asking him to take her someplace, but said place was also supposed to be secluded. They'd be alone, and Eli couldn't help but feel his internal grin widen at the possibilities. Not that he was planning on pulling anything, though. But the thought was still nice. However, he was still conflicted, and in the midst of a raging battle of heart versus head- what he secretly kinda-sorta-maybe wanted and what was best for everyone. He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't, and he meekly repeated the words in his mind, thinking that somehow, someway, it would ignite his self-control and rationality.

Oh, but he was weak, and it would have pained him horrendously to let this opportunity slip. _I'm just atoning for my awful behaviour, that's all I'm doing,_ he reassured himself. After this, he would start to distance himself from her, eventually cutting her off for good. It was for the best, after all.

The butterflies fluttered animatedly in the pits of his stomach, and he had looked down shyly before meeting Clare's hesitant gaze.

"No, it's fine Clare. I'll take you," he said, watching her light up like fireworks.

"Oh, thank you so much Eli!" she cheered happily, bouncing off the couch and onto her feet. "This really means a lot to me! And…you called me Clare."

"Why, isn't that your name?" he asked, a wave of warmth surging through him as he watched her beam with delight.

"No, it is. It's just, you never called me by my first name before," she clarified, looking a bit flushed.

"Ah, so you've been paying close to attention to what I've been saying, haven't you?" he chuckled, reaching over to grab his car keys from the coffee table. "There's a first time to everything."

Clare beamed, still blushing. "I remember _everything, _Elijah."

The way his full name sounded coming out of her lips was precious. Normally, he'd hate it. But with Clare, everything seemed to be an exception. Like how normally, the way Fiona would bubble around with enthusiasm would bother him. On the contrary, he enjoyed watching Clare all upbeat, as it was such a rare sight. The reticent girl was talented at keeping her emotions in tack, and one day, he hoped to provoke her in some way, and show her that having feelings was completely normal and okay. She was always so controlled around everyone, and all jealousy aside, he was secretly concerned of the impact it would have on her mental health. Keeping everything to oneself was a never a good thing, and made a breakdown an inevitable thing of the future. He knew that for a fact.

"Well, I guess I'll go change now," he announced, making his way to the staircase. He paused, hand touching the banister. "I'm not going to take long, but you can go ahead and make yourself at home."

"Okay," she nodded, gaze travelling across the length of the room in a pensive manner.

Eli jogged up to his room, feeling his heart accelerate. There was so much at stake at this very moment, and he could do was smile ruefully. Heart would just have to win for now.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello wonderful readers ! It's that time of the week again... TGIDF ! Brace yourself your the upcoming imogeli plot lines, because, well, I am. As much as it depresses me to see Clare and Eli deal with their own separate problems, I'm keeping Frostival in mind. As well, I have no doubt that Eclare _will _interact before the very last episode. Not only did the promos show some scenes of interaction between them, but also keep in mind that the cast members have been hinting it all along. If there wasn't an eclare reunion in the horizon, why would they be stringing us along? Surely the writers knows that if we aren't give any eclare by the end of the season, degrassi would certainly lose a great number of viewers. And that famous Frostival line that we all probably know by heart... "Do you think we could ever pick off where we left off?" It''s not very likely that Eli would spring the question after months of no communication. There has to be a build-up of some kind. **

** Keep the eclare faith alive, and enjoy this chapter !**

* * *

><p><strong>Eli:<strong>

"So what is it that's so special about this place?" Eli asked, breaking the comfortable silence. Clare seemed to like the quiet very much, so he had refrained from turning on his radio. He was chary not to break the trance she had manifested simply out of watching the light snow fall from outside the passenger window. In a way, she resembled the delicate little snowflakes that descended from the sky, in the sense that she was tiny, fragile and pure. He felt obligated to be particularly vigilant around her, and like a snowflake, he felt as though she would melt in his hands.

Breathing in through his nose, he found that he had to glance at Clare from the corner of his eye every once in a while to make sure this was all really happening. When was the last time he had anyone (with the exception of his mom and dad) sit in Morty's passenger seat? It had definitely been a while.

Clare doesn't say anything, her nose pressed gingerly against the cold glass. She looks intrigued, as if she's never seen snowfall. But Eli knows that like any self-respecting Canadian, that was definitely not the case.

"Slow down," Eli smirked, turning up the heat. "I can't process so many words at once."

"It's not important," she said, and if it weren't for the near-dead silence and the fact that Eli had grown accustomed to straining his ears around her, he wouldn't have known that she had even spoken.

"You're obviously going here for a reason," he stated logically. "And that reason must be a good one if it's enough to drag you all the way to this side of town."

"Maybe," she whispered evasively. Eli waited for her continue, but as the quiet began to envelope them again, he realized she isn't going to.

"Cryptic," he commented, nodding understandingly. He respected that, in spite of how the curiosity in him was begging for answers. There was a mysterious air to her that he was very fond of, and he perceived it as like a challenge, almost. Clare Edwards was a challenge.

"Here it is," she breathed with a slightly brighter tone, and Eli immediately made a sharp turn.

It was definitely secluded, with a forest-like surrounding and a wire gate that served as an unwelcoming entrance. In the distance there were lots of rocks and fragmented pieces of wood, almost like a man-made house that had been torn down a long time ago. It seemed as if there really had been a church. At first glance, Eli couldn't figure out what attracted Clare here, and that perplexed him to no end.

But before he could ask her, Clare had already swung open the door and dashed out, walking nimbly to the gate without any signs of fear.

"Are you coming?" she asked, almost in a way that taunted him.

She didn't wait for Eli to reach her before attempting to swing open the gate- only, she was a bit too short to reach the top latch, and despite her strenuous tries, the entrance would not open without Eli's help. She panted and jumped, but lacked the coordination, dexterity, and height the specific task required, and the sight alone was extremely amusing to Eli. As he approached her, he couldn't help but smirk at the tiny frown etched across her face, as well as the disappointment and frustration mixed in with the latter. His smirk only broadened when he flipped it open without difficulties, without even needing to stand on the balls of his feet.

"Show-off," she muttered, striding in with a bit of a stomp when he gestured her inside.

"I'm sorry, okay? Drink some milk," he said teasingly, catching up to her in no time.

"Ha-ha, you're so funny," she rolled her eyes, dusting off a rather flat boulder before taking a seat.

"Tell me something I don't know," he said haughtily, twirling his hand dismissively. "Like maybe, why this place is so important to you…? Come on, Edwards, you're killing me here."

"Do you really want to know?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Yes, Clare, I want to know."

"Do you really, really want to know?" she clarified ominously, deliberately teasing him.

"Yes, I really, really want to know."

"Do you really, really, really-"

"Clare!" he whined, stomping his feet impatiently.

"Are my eyes playing tricks on me, or did Elijah Goldsworthy just stomp his feet?" she gasped dramatically, giggling and clasping a hand to her mouth. "You're not as dark as you led on to be, sir."

"Tell meee," he complained peevishly, getting down on his knees and holding his hands together in front of him like a beggar. "I was waiting so patiently at the house and the entire car ride- doesn't that count for anything?"

Clare pursed her lips, trying hard not to smile. "Nope, no, I don't think so."

Eli grumble-moaned, face slipping into an uncharacteristic pout. He was teasing, of course, secretly enjoying Clare's amusement. He'd never admit that, though.

"The many sides of Eli Goldsworthy," she mused, eyes sparkling with delight. "Don't think I won't hold this against you."

"Blackmailing me, eh," he mumbled, folding his arms across his chest and frowning deeper. He mashed his eyebrows together childishly and tucked his chin, glaring up at her with exaggerated distain. It was then that Clare couldn't contain her laughter any longer. Chortling until her sides started to ache and her eyes started to water, Clare was laughing harder than Eli had ever seen her laugh, and what a sight it was. He greedily took in the sound, savouring the image of her euphoria as it provided him with such blissfulness and comfort. It was he who was making her laugh. It was because of him that she finally cracked out of her sad shell, and with that his ego was practically glowing with delight.

When she finally began to calm down, Eli just smirked and started to get on his feet, wiping the dirt off of his pants.

"Oh, ouch my stomach," she groaned, clutching her sides with labored breaths.

"Glad to see I have that effect on you."

"Yes, now whenever I have that annoying little pain in my tummy, I'll think of you."

"_Tummy_, Edwards? How much older than you am I again?"

"Oh, put a sock in it," she said, grabbing a handful of pebbles and pelting them at him.

"Abuse!" he yelped, cowering away from her. "Why is it that you're always throwing something at me?"

"This is not abuse, you moron. And I throw things at you because you don't listen."

"That's verbal abuse right there. I'm wounded now, Clare. I am in a glass case of emotion," he said, feigning hurt.

"You're kidding, right?" she said, looking a bit unsure now. Eli just bowed his head and jutted out his lower lip. "Oh no, please tell me you're kidding. I didn't meant to hurt your feelings, Eli, you're not a moron. I'm sorry!"

Guilt thickly traced her hushed voice, and her eyes were pleading, almost imploring for forgiveness. If she wasn't so serious, Eli would have smirked- this girl was definitely a saint, no doubt about it.

"You're forgiven."

She huffed out a sigh of relief, slumping her shoulders slightly. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but her lips didn't move from the tight line they were set in. Again, Eli felt agitated by her wordlessness, and spoke impetuously.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" he inquired demandingly, staring hard at her.

Clare just shook her head, hands folded neatly in her lap and thumbs circling each other.

Eli frowned to himself in frustration, and decided against prying it out of her. He would have to use a different tactic.

Imitating Clare in the way that she titled her head to the side, Eli screwed his lips to the side and glanced around. Seeing that there was no other boulder available to sit comfortably on, he resorted to sitting Indian-style before Clare. He smiled impishly and folded in hands in his lap, looking up at her with the most innocent expression he could muster.

"I'm listening now," he said angelically, straightening his back and looking attentively at her like a six year old at school.

"You're so cute," she said in a tinkling laugh, patting him lightly on his head. His heart sprang out of his chest, and he immediately lost feeling in his legs at her touch. These days, it wouldn't be unreasonable to think he was developing tachycardia, given the uncountable number of times his heart reacted violently and erratically to such simple things. But the bubbly warm sensation flowing through him was like a rush- an adrenaline rush. And exhilarating feeling he wouldn't soon forget. The effect Clare Edwards had on him was starting to be something to worry about, but Eli couldn't really think clearly when her hands touching his hair. Holy hell, she wasn't even touching his skin and he was already driven mad.

_Snap the fuck out of it, Eli. You're not good enough, you're not good enough, you dig up corpses every night for fuck's sake._

Images of the night of the party flashed back in his head, and the blackness began to sink in.

"_You're late, kid," the voice drawled as he leered at him with a shovel in his hand. Even in the pitch darkness, Eli could make out the evil glint in his eye, and he gulped nervously at the prospects of tonight. Clenching his trembling, garden glove-clad hands as he approached the figure, he suddenly wished that he hadn't brought his phone to Fiona's loft. It would be a valid excuse at the very least, though it wouldn't be enough to get him out of the binding he was in. He knew there wouldn't have been an escape either way. Even his imagination couldn't stretch out wide enough for him to even think of a possible scenario of which he would be granted a day off._

"_Sorry," he muttered harshly under his breath, seizing the wooden handle of the shovel, hoping that the sooner he started, the sooner he'd be able to go home._

"_Not so fast," the man hissed, yanking the tool back. "You didn't think that I'd let you go unpunished, did you? That's far past delusional, kid, even for you."_

_It was happening again. Eli let out a screech of pain the second the metal made hard contact with his skin, and fell to the ground. He curled up into a fetal position, biting his tongue down as the same action was repeated incessantly, cringing and whimpering to himself in pure agony. The way his shoulders were hunched over spared his face from getting smacked, but his legs and back were completely exposed to the merciless hits. Never had he ever felt so small, so helpless, and so unable to do anything but wait. He waited for the longest storm to be over, letting out anguished cries he couldn't stifle every now and again. He tried not to make a sound. He always tried to stay silent, knowing that his audible sounds of pain would only satisfy him. But sometimes, it was hard to keep all he was feeling inside. Sometimes it'd be too hard to fight._

"_That ought to teach you a lesson," the man said gruffly, sounding pleased with himself. Eli continued to writhe uncontrollably, his face digging into the dirt ground beneath him. He was momentarily paralyzed, and try as he might, was unable to move._

"_Get your ass off the floor and start digging me some graves," he snarled, thrusting the shovel at Eli. "I want this entire section cleared off by three am, do you hear me? Do I need to remind you of your sins, boy?"_

"_N-no," he whispered weakly, pushing himself up with all his strength. He winced at the burning aches that inflamed with every little movement, touching the nasty sting on his cheek. Even on the ground quivering with utmost pain, the man still had the nerve to whip a garden tool at his face._

"_You killed my daughter, Goldsworthy," the man hissed venomously, grabbing Eli by the collar of his shirt and lifting him off the ground. "You murdered my girl, and I'll make sure that you _never _forget that."_

_Eli's throat caught, and it wasn't until the man let go of him that he went into a full-on hacking cough. His breathing was short and ragged. He was shaking violently now, and he could feel it even as he ventured deeper into the cemetery. The man's words echoed in his head, haunting him of every memory of when his life made sense. His calf leaning on a tombstone, he stuck the shovel against the ground. Eli felt dirty and sick and twisted for doing this, but he had no choice. He'd have to do anything for him, he'd have to atone for his mistakes somehow, someway. If that man found fulfilment in disturbing the dead for the sake of satisfying his insanity, then so be it. 'If Julia couldn't have a happy ending, no one else would either' was his rationalization. _

_Julia had always been there to protect Eli. Now that she was gone, nothing was going to stop him._

"Stay with me, please, Eli, stay here," a soft voice breathed into his ear, begging with a sense of urgency that struck him back to reality.

Eli was in the same fetal position he had been the other night, with his head tucked and arms wrapped around his knees as if hanging on for dear life. He was whimpering unintelligibly now, feeling out of himself completely.

"Calm down, Eli, please," Clare pleaded kneeled beside him with her face close to his. Eli was so distressed he couldn't even register the proximity, let alone react to it.

"D-distract me," he choked, eyes refusing to blink and lips refusing to stop quivering. He wasn't that far in, and needed to instruct Clare before he fell in even deeper.

Clare didn't need to be asked twice. "I…um, you asked me what I was thinking about before," she said anxiously. Extemporaneous speeches weren't really Clare's forte, and so she struggled to speak coherently.

Eli let out a soft whine.

"I was thinking about how when I first saw you, I had already decided to stay away from you," she said, sounding rushed. "Between your Gothic attire and hearse, you just spelled trouble, and I-I…" She stopped, endeavouring to make sense of her thoughts and covert them into words. "This place is important to me because where this church is where my family and I used to go to when Darcy and I were younger. We were hap…it's not important," she said hastily, keeping her soft tone. "This place just holds a lot of memories, and it has sentimental value to me. I j-just- Eli? Please, I can't do this."

Eli just closed his eyes, concentrating on the slightly frantic beat of Clare's heart next to him. He needed someone's arms around his body comforting him with warmth, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her. He couldn't ask someone he's known for a week to hold him in such an intimate way, regardless of what state he was in. He focused on her words, her broken thoughts, and tried to process them- he couldn't deny that it hurt him, hearing her talk about how she wanted to stay far, far away from him at first glance. But considering she was here and hadn't fled the scene, it was a good sign, right? Minds change like the weather, and he hoped that he had somehow convinced her that he wasn't all that dark and troublesome. It'd be a lie, though; he had a lot of history with him, a lot of baggage. Clare was probably religious since she went to church, and with her family, too. But the way she spoke about it, Eli had a feeling that there was something stirring in that family situation of her. He was probably reading too much into in, but Eli was good at picking up little details like this, and he definitely wasn't going to let go of it that easily. He was that much closer to figuring out the mystery that is Clare Edwards.

He felt something light hovering over him, barely touching the front of his body. He opened his eyes to see Clare reaching over him with her hands fumbling within his jacket pocket.

"Come on, where's your phone Eli?" she murmured worriedly to herself, digging around. She gently squeezed his waist in the process of searching for the cool slickness of his cell, causing Eli to jump a foot up the air and somehow snap back into reality. Thank God he had only touched the surface of the blackness- thank God Clare's unintentional squeeze at somehow pulled him back. He was now in an upright position now, face paler than ever.

"Eli, I have to call your parents," she said, voice cracking and breaking with anxiety.

"No, I'm fine," he gasped, clutching his knees tightly. "I'm sorry, I-I just need a breath."

Clare nodded, gazing at him with a knit brow.

"How long had I been out?" he asked quietly, unsure if he wanted to know.

"It was at least four minutes before you spoke."

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he whispered, fingers brushing the ground absentmindedly. He was sweating gallons now, and especially on her face.

She pressed her lips together, and said nothing.

"I have these…anxiety attacks from time to time. It's not a big deal, but when it comes, it hits me hard. This one wasn't so bad," he explained roughly, averting his eyes, feeling utterly pathetic and weak. Things were going so well…  
>"Let me call your mom," she said in a low monotone, and Eli obeyed immediately by handing her his phone. She found Cece under his contacts and pressed the buttons with swift fingers, bringing the phone to her ear. Eli zoned out as she briefly explained the situation to her, feeling like he was crashing under the weight of the world again. Ashamed, shaken, and broken all at once, he sighed numbly to himself, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his bed and sleep, sleep, sleep. He didn't want to face Clare right now, or anyone for that matter, but he knew there was one thing he had to clear up before they parted. One important thing.<p>

"You said that you had decided to stay away from me when you first saw me," he said bleakly, the second she hung up the phone. Clare looked at him with curiosity and wariness. "Has that changed?"

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, after a long pause. "But I'm here, aren't I?"

"Not for much longer," Eli whispered, sadness in his eyes.

"What makes you think that I'm going anywhere?" she asked. The broken boy beneath her writhed involuntarily, looking more vulnerable than she had ever seen him.

He just looked up at her, trying to swallow the giant lump in his throat.

"Eli, I'm not going to leave you right now. What kind of person would I be to abandon someone in their time of need?" she said softly, stroking his hand with a feather-light touch. There was pity and deep concern in her crystal-blue eyes, and he wasn't sure what to feel of it. He didn't like the way she looked at him like he was a charity case, and would have just asked her to go away if there wasn't something else brewing beneath the surface. "I'll wait with you until your mom gets here."

"Clare," he said hoarsely, gazing fondly at her fingers as it caressed his hand. "You need to know what you're getting yourself into. You were right about me-I'm nothing but trouble. It wouldn't be fair for you to deal with all that purely out of guilt and pity."

"I'm not leaving right now," she said pertinaciously, skillfully avoiding being caught behind a rock and a hard place. Clare seemed to have succeeded in doing the morally correct thing in the given situation, which was helping him in his most dire need of assistance. As well, she managed to provide him with a sense of comfort, all while avoiding a solid promise to stay with him later on when things get tough. Intricate thoughts swirled in his muddled head, and Eli figured that he was probably over-analyzing things too much. Still, as soothing as her voice and presence was to him, the doubt lingered in the back of his mind.

Gradually, his boiling blood began to simmer down, and his body began to slowly shut down on its own. He was calming down.

"_Just close your eyes_," she sang-talked softly in a last attempt to soothe him. "_The sun is going down; you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe, and, sound._"

The last thing Eli remembered before drifting off was the sweet, melodious sound of a girl singing to him. He slept free of nightmares.


	12. Chapter 12

**Update, update, update! I figured we all could use some Eclare stuff before the upcoming episode- I know I do. Message me any eclare story suggestions if you get the chance to; I'd really appreciate it. :)**

**So what, continue this or what? O:**

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><p><strong>Clare: <strong>

"It has to be here somewhere," Clare muttered in angst, desperately ripping through every notebook, binder, and textbook stacked neatly on her locker shelf. Pausing to take a double-take on a notebook she's never seen before, she knitted her brows together in confusion. There were pages sticking out of it in a disorganized fashion, and in the front there was no title or label. For a moment she considered opening it up and flipping through it, but figured that she had innumerable notebooks in her possession, so it wasn't possible to remember all of them individually. She would check it out later- there were more important matters on hand at the moment.

"Relax, Clare, it'll turn up," Adam said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it away impatiently, continuing to search for her most beloved possession. "Hey, if anyone should be mad, it's me. I was the one who had to eat that burnt shit you called grilled cheese." He grinned half-heartedly.

"I'm on the verge of insanity here," she whispered frantically.

"Speaking of which, have you finished Dawes's paper on Midsummer Night's Dream?" he asked, as if that had anything to do with Clare's disturbed mental state. He was obviously trying to distract Clare from her distress, probably assuming that she had already finished, being the total English scholar she was. "It's due today."

"_What_?" she gaped, shocked by how fast the due date had snuck up on her.

"Last period," he said warily, registering her surprise. "You haven't finished?"

"I haven't even chosen an idea yet," she groaned quietly, peering at his watch.

"You have all of lunch," he encouraged with a force smile, trying to cheer her up.

"An hour and fifteen minutes to write a well-developed, insightful essay free of any grammatical errors," she buried her face in her hands. "Mrs. Dawes is going to be so disappointed at me."

He patted her shoulder gently. "I'd stay and help and all-although you probably wouldn't need it- but I have a mission to complete. Lucky you, dealing with pedestrian problems- Fiona has been avoiding me these days."

"She is a senior, Adam- she's bound to be busy with school work and all," she said reassuringly.

He sighed and shook his head. "I don't think that's it. What if she's changing her mind about me, Clare?"

"She knows about your situation, Adam, and she still wanted to be with you. I can't tell you for sure that she had changed her mind now, but I can tell you that it would be her lost," she said passionately, giving him a rueful smile. "Now, I have to work on my paper, so why don't you go catch your princess and sort things out?"

"Thanks Clare," he breathed, feeling somewhat better. "And hey, one thing to forward to is winter break. I can't to get out of here." He receded before turning away and jogging down the hall, waving at her briefly.

Pedestrian problems. Clare chuckled darkly at the underestimation of that.

Carrying her Midsummer Night's Dream book tucked under her arm, bag slung over her tired shoulders, she made her way to the school library. Once she settled down at the very back with her backpack nestled in the corner next to her, she began to freehandedly write her essay, not bothering to do any brainstorming of any kind. Structured preparation was time-consuming, and she also preferred to let all her ideas freely flow. Having to write according to a planned layout suffocated her creative stream. Built boundaries prohibited her from writing liberally, and often made her over-think too much of whether what she wanted to include fit within the limitations. Writing, she believed, should be as spontaneous as falling in love, as unplanned as developing feelings for someone.

Before she knew it two pages of her notebook was filled with her messy handwriting. Insightful comments and intuitive ideas were mixed together in the most intricate way, not only displaying Clare's extensive comprehension of the story itself, but also a distinctive perspective of the characters and a shrewd assessment of how they all are as a person. There was no doubt that Clare was a very deep individual that held a level of maturity no one of her age could possible relate to, and that in itself posed as both a negative and positive thing- negative because there was rarely anyone she connected with. And now that she thought about it, that was probably the reason for her reservation. Nobody could fully understand where she came from.

"You stole my hiding place," someone accused playfully, and she looked up to see none other than Eli smirking down at her.

"I didn't see your name anywhere, so I just assumed…" Clare just shrugged, feeling something light play on her lips. Seeing that she was already finished with her assignment, and feeling especially charged by the amount of writing she had just done, she did something she'd never done before- she patted the space next to her, inviting Eli to sit.

His smirk dissolved a bit into a timid smile as he took his seat, and Clare could feel the warm electricity of his shoulder as it touched hers.

"I brought you lunch," he stated with a slightly shy mien. "To thank you for calling my mom and all, and for staying with me."

"That's really kind of you," she said graciously. "But really, anyone would do the same. You're giving me too much credit." Eli took out a brown bag from his backpack, pulling out a large blueberry muffin and a fresh turkey sandwich, grinning as Clare eyed it with ravenous eyes.

"Still," he said, shrugging the fact away. "Here you are, Edwards, the fine culinary works of yours truly," he said proudly, unwrapping the plastic wrap and handing it to Clare, who pinched a tiny morsel between her fingers before placing it on her tongue.

"Mhmm," she moaned, savouring the delicious taste. "Oh goodness, Eli, did you make this? It's really good."

Clare took a large bite out of the baked good, eyes flickering upwards. For a split second, she could have sworn there was something strange in Eli's eyes- longing? Yearning, perhaps? Eagerness?

"Try some?" she offered, bringing the muffin to his lips.

He obliged, green orbs intently resting on Clare's blue ones the entire time. Her face heated up a bit at the proximity of his eyes, and she could feel her face turn an even darker red as he bit the muffin.

"Oh, that is _really _good," he said, leaning his head against the wall as he chewed.

"You seem just as surprised as I am," she laughed. "I hope I wasn't your guinea pig for your first time baking."

"Of course not," he smiled impishly. "I would _never_ do that to you, Clare."

"If I suddenly rush to the girl's bathroom in English today…"

"Your confidence in my cooking skills is encouraging," he smirked.

"Baking a muffin doesn't exactly qualify you as Supreme chef, you know," she teased, and he just smiled back.

"Anyways," he said loudly, deliberately. "What's that you're writing there?"

"The paper that's due today," she admitted, resisting the urge to cover up her work. Clare felt a bit uncomfortable with his leaning over to read her writing, but was distracted by the way his lips moved in silent reading. She wouldn't go as far as saying that they were mesmerizing, though- again, the proximity was taking an effect in her, but it probably would be with anyone. She just wasn't used to being this physically close to someone, that's all.

"May I?" he asked politely, hands hovering her notebook.

She bit her lip, hesitating for the longest time. She surprised herself by nodding.

_Hope there aren't any embarrassing mistakes, hope there aren't any embarrassing mistakes…_

Clare wasn't sure why his opinion mattered so much to her. It's not like he would understand half of what she was trying to say, anyway. That's not to insult his intelligence or anything, but it had become easy to assume everyone's lack of comprehension when it came to her writing. She even gave Ms. Dawes a run for her money, and that was saying a lot. What were the chances of sixteen-year old boy understanding her work, anyway?

"It's strong," he commented after a long silence, "and the depth and coherence of it is very good. The only thing missing is your point of view- it's a little distant, if I might say."

Clare gawked at him, unable to veil her surprise. Was she seriously getting constructive criticism from him that was actually useful and made sense?

"That's perfect," she gasped, scanning through the pages quickly. "That's the perfect way to describe it!"

He shrugged. "I like it, though. I share your opinion on Egeus in this."

"That he doesn't listen, and that he's very narrow-minded," she nodded vigorously, gazing at him in a new light.

"He has a twisted concept of love- threatening his daughter to marry Lysander, or to be murdered upon his own hands," Eli added.

"A heart ignorant of love," Clare agreed. "And don't forget, getting shipped off to the convent was the other option. I probably would have chose death if it was up to me."

"Why's that?"

"Because of two reasons," she said thoughtfully, absentmindedly twisting the ring on her finger. "One being, that I have to show them that they don't own me. I'd rather die knowing that I stood up for something I believe it- a noble death, if you will. And secondly, I refuse to marry for reasons other than love. Spending your life with someone other than your perfect partner is a tragedy, don't you think?"

Eli didn't say anything. Instead, he just gazed at her lips with such intensity and ardency. It was as if there was nothing else in the world going on. In an instance, Clare realized how close they had gotten, as well as how in sync they were with one another. But the fact that his face had loomed so close posed as the more demanding matter to think about, and so she pushed the other one in the back of her mind. His sweet, heated breath was on her, making it almost impossible to think. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want that to happen? Oh God, what was happening to heart? Why was it beating so hard? Is this supposed to happen?

"I agree," he blurted in a breathy voice.

Instinctively, the two bowed their heads and leaned backwards, creating the same respectably distance they started with. Clare's palms were now dripping with cold sweat, and so she wiped her hands on her jeans, feeling like the room temperature had just rose a million degrees from when she first came into the room. Aw hell, why was she even fighting the undeniable electricity between them in the first place? Sure, he was trouble, but everyone was in their own way, right? Perhaps it was the heat of the atmosphere that was mangling her ability to think logically. But still. She'd never been the one to jump headfirst into anything, and always insisted on prudence rather than spontaneity. It was time for a change, and change was good. Right?

Her cell phone buzzed from her jean pocket, demanding to be addressed in the most irritating way. With a quick apology, Clare dug out her phone and opened a new message from her unreasonably austere mom- another reminder of what time she had to be home. In her freshman year, her curfew stood at six o'clock in the summer- five in the winter, as the days were shorter. Now, four o'clock was the standard, giving her almost no time to do anything but rush home.

When she thought about it, when she really meditated upon her reasons for behaving the way she did, she realized that the relationship her parents had greatly influenced her. Acting in the spur of the moment never bothered her until they started fighting, an she suspected that it was because she wanted to be extra sure she wouldn't be getting in the same problems they were getting into when she found someone. And perhaps that was why she had been so wary around Eli. Certainly, they were not her parents, but they were obviously very different. The fear tarried in the back of her mind, constantly asking herself, _what if they were too different_? Developing feelings of any sort for him would inevitably lead to consequences, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"We have ten minutes until class," she said bluntly, grabbing her bag and getting on her feet way too fast.

"Wouldn't want to be tardy now," Eli murmured, following her lead. Clare wasn't sure it she was detecting disappointment in his voice, as he seemed to have put up all his walls again. His cloudy eyes returned to their prior state of unfathomability, and Clare didn't like that. She didn't like how guarded he was, because it made her feel as if he didn't trust her.

And for some reason, his trust is something she really wants to earn.

"We could take the long way," she offered, after calculating how much time they had left.

"Spunky," he nodded with a sarcastic smile on his face.

"Twenty questions?"

He nodded again, a lopsided grin now drawn on his face. 'Ladies first."

"I guess that's me," Clare said jokingly, matching his slow, long strides as they strolled down the hall together. She screwed her lips to the side of her face. "Let's see…favourite band?"

"Easy. Dead Hands, "he scoffed, waving his hands dismissively. "I like The Fray, too. Favourite book?"

"Ooh, you really know how to torture a person, don't you?" she muttered, and Eli laughed. "Well, I like Jane Eyre and Anne of Green Gables, but Chuck Palahniuk books are one of the best."

"That he is," he praised solemnly, expression pensive for a brief moment. "Your taste is books in totally bipolar, you know that?"

She grinned. "I like classical literature, and delving into the dark tales of psychopaths. What are you gonna do about it?"

"Feel intimidated by how dangerously you live your life?" Eli retorted smugly.

"I should teach you a lesson on danger…or something," Clare mused, eliciting yet another chuckle from him. "Because I'm so dangerous and all."

"I think you'll find me to be a very willing student."

"Alright, my turn. Do you drink coffee?"

"From time to time," he said.

"How do you drink it?"

"I think that's second question," he pointed out, arching one eyebrow. "It's my turn now. Favourite…dessert?"  
>"Chocolate cake," she answered swiftly. "Now how do you drink your coffee?"<p>

"Why does it matter how I drink my coffee?" he snorted, stopping just short of the classroom entrance. Students were beginning to pile in, arriving from their lunch periods, and Ms. Dawes was already seated at her desk. "Oh look, class is starting."

"Eli," she frowned, folding her arms across her chest.

"Wouldn't want to be late now, would we?" he said brazenly, flashing her a brilliant smile before strolling towards his seat. He innocently started to take out his English binder and notebook, putting his impeccable acting skills into good use by feigning ignorance.

"You're impossible," Clare said under her breath, rolling her eyes.

But she didn't mean it in a bad way.

"Randall, you've been out six times the week. Is it too much to ask for one family dinner, when you're out partying with all your co-workers twenty-four seven?"

"That's none of your business Helen," he snapped, and a sharp crunching sound followed immediately after. "And yes, it is very much to ask. I have other important matters to tend to."

"Family is no longer important to you, is that it?" she accused acerbically, causing Clare to wince. Her grip on the banister tightened, her teeth grinding together so hard one of her pearly whites may have just broke off. The sheer disgust in both their voices was absolutely horrific, the venom more disturbing than a hand of nails scratching across a chalkboard. Her family was falling apart at the seams and Clare was as helpless as to watching everything she's known and love crumble under the stress of different beliefs, and different priorities fighting for dominance.

"I didn't say that Helen!" he spat irritably in a near groan. "You always do that- you always twist my words and you perceive everything in the worst way possible!"

"That's because _you never tell me anything_," she said scathingly, and from the shadow she casting on the hallways, Clare could her mother throw her arms up in the air in frustration. "You just come crawling home in a drunken mess-"

"Don't you _dare _speak about me that way," he snarled, and a slapping sound echoed off the walls. Clare's hand flew to her mouth, and under the tremendous amount of anxiety, tension, and fear building up in the core of her stomach, she collapsed on the stairs. Her father had _never_ hit anyone. He never went as far as physical abuse. Struggling indefinitely to process what had just happened, her quick breathing soon dissolved into frantic gasps for oxygen, which eventually turned into hysterical sobs. She willed her legs to move her into her room to cry in peace, but she was weak. Weak from the emotional distress her parents' constant disputing put her in, weak from numbness pounding in her head. The tears silently rolled down her cheeks, only the sound of her sharp intakes of breath surrounding her. This was not real. Her father would never do such a thing.

"I…Helen, I didn't mean to…"

"Out," she hissed in a low voice, and Clare jolted upwards at how deadly her mother sounded. Nearly tripping over her own feet as she did, Clare scrambled up the remains of the stairs and into her room, leaving the door open just a crack. Part of her was curious in hearing what was going to happen next, part of her wanting to eradicate every memory of their fight. She leaned against the door jam, clutching the knobs as if she was holding on to her life.

"If you kick me out now," he threatened emptily, "then I won't ever come back."

A long pause filled the house as the stake of the family's well-being hung precariously over a metaphoric cliff. Up until this point, their heated arguments only escalated relentlessly, and now that they reached the peak, it was finally clear to Clare that there was no going back. There was no saving this broken relationship now. And yet, her ears still strained to hear the words she knew would finalize everything, somehow hoping that she would be taken by surprise. She murmured a quick, desperate prayer to God, sweating so profusely that her shirt began to sport visible wet stains. _Please, please, please, not now, please don't._

"Get. Out," she screeched. There were some scuffling sounds, followed by the slam of the door.

And it hit Clare harder than it should have.

Trembling uncontrollably and with fresh, raw pain washing over her like a powerful wave, sapping every bit of the strength she had left in her body. That was the last straw. That was it. She wasn't going to sit here moping and crying all night, no; she was going to let out all the anger and grief one way or another.

She tossed all her books haphazardly in the air, falling to knees. She stared at her vast collection of notebooks strewn on the ground, suddenly remembering the black book she had came across earlier today. Shoving the rest aside and picking it up, she studied it curiously, waiting for the jolt of remembrance to hit her.

It never came.

She gingerly turned open the cover, taken aback when she noticed that the handwriting on the first page was not hers. It was much messier, and written with a black ballpoint pen. Whoever had written in it must have felt very strongly about something, given the rough indentation every letter left on the thin lined sheets.

_Elijah Goldsworthy._

That was the name scrawled across the top right hand corner.

"This is Eli's journal," she whispered, lifting her head up and gazing glassily out her window.


	13. Chapter 13

**Haha, the number of reviews I got for the previous chapter was amazing, thank you so much ! And special thank you to KitKat0219 , who showed me the ropes the first day I started Fanfiction, and devoutly read all my chapters! Check out her fantastic stories! I promise you won't regret it!**

**A long chapter, so prepare yourselfs! **

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><p><strong>Eli:<strong>

"You are deep in thought, Elijah Goldsworthy," Imogen pointed out blatantly, clutching his tightly as the crowd pushed and shoved and fought for a closer look at the heavily- perspiring singer belting his heart out.

Eli wasn't sure how it happened, but somehow, Fiona had ambushed him after the final bell the last day. With three concert tickets clipped between her fingers, she animatedly waved her hand around his face, tempting him with the prospects to seeing his favourite band live. How she even knew Dead Hands was his favourite still remains a mystery, but he didn't give two shits about it if it meant he was invited. They would be going in a small group of three- the two of them, or course, as well as a trim, idiosyncratic girl who claimed to be a close friend of Fiona. Eli found it odd that she had known his full name prior to when they first met, given the fact that he had never even seen her before. But Fiona had quickly explained that she had mentioned him a couple times in their past conversations.

Her name was Imogen Moreno, and her personality was just as eccentric as her name. Within an hour of meeting, Eli was already convinced that she had made quite the impression on him: for starters, her attire, though remarkably similar to the punk-Goth things he had going on, was unusually ornate. She wore a puffy purple tutu paired with black and red combat boots, as well as a black long sleeve shirt under a flamboyant red corset. Her hair was knotted multiple times at the top of her head, and on her hands were nylon gloves that pulled up just shy of where her colourful collection of bangles began. Her polka-dot long socks were meticulously distressed, highlighting her amazing legs. And to top it all off, a pink elephant charm hung on a silver chain around her neck, completely splattered with paint. In short, Imogen Moreno was hard to miss, and that was _before _you got to know her.

Fiona had thought it'd be a wonderful idea for the three of them to get together, and Imogen was bubbling with twice the excitement, blissfully painting a picture of how life would be like if they all became BFFLs. Only, much to Eli's puzzlement, she pronounced it '_bi-fels', _flawlessly displaying her peculiarity once again.

"What an adrenaline rush!" Fiona exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. "I never thought I'd like a band like this!"

"Dead Hands has _always _been my favourite," Imogen stated happily, now leaning towards Eli's ear. "What about you?"

He shivered involuntarily at the tingling sensation her breath left on him, feeling uneasy about the proximity. Since they had got in, Imogen had been latched onto him like wet clothes on wet skin. His arm had lost feeling so long ago, he had forgotten what it felt like to have blood flowing through them.

"Love them," he nodded, having to shout just so she would hear him over the screaming crowd. For the next half hour, he sang along with the band, sweating profusely through his leather jacket and skinny jeans. He was having fun, of course, and he loved the way the he was able to cheer and yell with everyone else when they performed _Paisley Jacket_. He loved the rush, the fist-pumping, the music…but there was something else he was thinking about that prevented him from fully enjoying the experience.

Every so often, Eli would notice Fiona stopping to scrutinize Imogen and him, and every time he turned to ask her what she was looking at, she would always be looking away. He always found Imogen invading his personal space a little too often, and would have said something about it if it came with intentions. She seemed oblivious to the intimacy of their arm linking, ignorant to what it symbolized. Either that or she was an exceptional actor, and given that she was a keen drama student, Eli suspected that she was flirting with him in a way that he couldn't call out on her. The unsaid awkwardness of the situation was a little much in Eli's standards, and he almost wished he was at home, lying on bed in an eagle-spread position with his headphones on full blast.

"Dance with me, Eli! Imogen said enthusiastically, grabbing his hands and wiggling her body around.

"Um, dancing's not really my thing," he said hastily, gently pulling his hands back to his chest. He smirked in amusement, watching her twist and move around with no desire of following the beat of the music. She seemed to care little of what other people think.

"Not to worry, Elijah," she said soothingly, whirling her hips around. "I happen to be an excellent dancer, according to my Nana. She was a dance coach for the Italian Renaissance team in Italy, and often she would praise my dancing skills."

Again with the Elijah. "It's Eli, Imogen. And no, I think I'm good. Fiona might want to join you, though, don't you, Fi?"

He nudged her, a suggestive smirk playing on his lips. He had meant to not only wriggle his way out of public humiliation, but to lob the bomb to someone else.

Fiona, however, just giggled and joined her, much to Eli's surprise. This was extremely uncharacteristic of her.

"A dancing Fiona," Eli nodded, jutting out his bottom lip. "Never thought I'd live to see the day."

"Oh do be quiet," she shushed him, smiling as Imogen twirled around like a lithe ballerina. "At least I'm not standing alone with my hands jammed in my pockets in the middle of a concert."

"Hey, skinny jeans don't come with big pockets," he said defensively. "Jamming is the only way to get it in."

"That sounded dirty," Imogen giggled, clasping her hand over her mouth.

Eli grinned lopsidedly, processing how utterly…suggestive her giggle sounded. Another thing about Imogen: in spite of her childish behaviour, she was far from innocent.

"You don't seem disgusted about it," Fiona said, feigning disapproval. "Imo, you naughty girl."

Imogen just grinned secretively, and that's how the three went on for the rest of the night.

* * *

><p>"This was a wonderful experience!" Imogen said cheerfully as they exited the stadium. "It's such a shame we have to leave now, is it not?"<p>

"A shame indeed," Fiona smiled, glancing at her watch. "My limo is here now. Imo, are you coming?"

Imogen cocked her head to the side, and Eli's teeth immediately clenched at the similarity. Clare always tilted her head that way, and this annoyed him for some strange reason.

"I think I'll ride with Elijah," she decided brazenly, flashing him a bright smile.

"Um, okay," he said. He hadn't really offered her a ride, but he couldn't exactly turn her down now.

Fiona frowned a bit, but said nothing. As her chauffeur opened up her door, she reached over to wrap Imogen in a warm embrace, squeezing her ever so lightly. "I suppose I'll have to see you tomorrow, dear."

"Oh you will, Fiona Coyne!" she vowed zealously. "I assure you, we will meet again soon. In my past life, you see, I was a lovely gypsy princess, one that everyone looked up because of the way she kept her word; my exotic beauty adds nothing to the respect my people had for me. I promise you we will see each other again, so don't you worry!"

"I trust you," Fiona said emotionally, blowing a kiss in her direction. "Tah-tah for now, darling! And I'll talk to you soon, too, Eli."

The limo drove away, leaving the two standing with a sudden chill in the dark night.

"So, where do you live?" Eli asked, reaching over to open the passenger seat of his hearse.

"I'll tell you where to turn," she answered vaguely, slipping inside with a wicked twinkle in her dark eyes.

He raised his eyebrows.

"I live in a small neighbourhood, Elijah Goldsworthy; you wouldn't know where it is."

"Eli," he corrected again, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Eli," she smiled. "Turn to the left and right at the second turn."

He stabbed his keys into the ignition, and Morty wheezed to life. As he started to back out of the lot, he noticed that Imogen had taken the liberty to change the channel on his radio, fiddling around with the tight knob until she was satisfied with what music was playing. He pursed his lips when she finally settled on screamo music- the same song he had playing in the hearse the other day in the school parking lot. It had to be an uncanny coincident.

"My go-to song," he said jokingly, spinning the steering wheel to the right.

"The next right," she said, pointing with her index finger. He noticed that her fingers were painted black, just like his were. "Well, we are very similar in many ways, if you haven't already figured out. That's probably why we're getting along so well. I've never been a believer in the whole 'opposites attract' expression, have you?"

"People can be different and still get along," he said defiantly, adjusted his arm so that his elbow was no longer touching hers.

"I disagree," she mused, sighing deeply. "People who are different are often at ends, always waiting for the moment they fall together. It usually never happens."

He pressed his lips together and said nothing, refusing to concede.

"The way I view things, is that two of the same should always stay together," she preached wholeheartedly, as if she knew she was provoking him. She probably didn't, as her head was turned the other way. "It works out better that way."

"Then maybe we shouldn't be here together," he said. "Considering we have polar- opposite views on this."

She whipped her head around, eyes widening in a mixture of panic and incredulousness before she controlled herself. "Well, it is impossible for two to be exactly the same, you know. As long as they are mostly alike."

"Hmm," was all Eli said, eyes focused on the road. The exasperation building in him would level down if he concentrated on something else. Imogen definitely had the potential to trigger his irascible side, and he knew that if he wasn't careful, he would end up scaring her too. He just wished that self-control wasn't so damn hard.

"This is my home," Imogen announced, and Eli pulled up the driveway.

"Bye," he said, expecting her to reciprocate his disinterested bade. In his head, he tried remembering the directions home, assuming that Imogen would take the hint and leave.

But much to his surprise, she leaned forwards and kissed his cheek. Her cold lips felt oddly distant and uninviting, and he shuddered at the roughness of them.

"Goodbye, Eli," she said dreamily, twirling the loose strands of hair coming out of her knots. She batted her eyelashes at him before exiting the car, and skipped towards her front porch with a satisfied smile on her face.

"Imogen!" he called, rolling down his windows as quickly as he could. "You know we're just friends, right?"

Unfortunately, she was already inside, and Eli cursed under his breath.

**Clare:**

It was one in the morning, and Clare was still wide awake- with the aid of cluttered, pestering, stressful thoughts, of course. The fight her parents had was long forgotten, and although it still lingered in the surface of her brain, she was far too immersed in more trivial matters. Matters like, why was she laying frazzled in bed when she could easily get up and pick up the journal? Why was she letting the temptation eat herself away when her source of relief was a mere two feet away? For hours Clare fought with herself, tossing and turning uncomfortably on her mattress with drooping eyelids. It was the classic case of desire versus ethics, and clearly, desire was beating the shit out of ethics.

"Eli wouldn't want me to read it," she reminded herself, rubbing her cold hands together in an attempt to warm them up. "God wouldn't want me to pry. It's the morally incorrect thing to do."

She endeavoured to diminish the urge by using ingenious tactics such as daydreaming, and with that she imagined millions of little scenarios she would love to have happen. She had even used everything at her disposal, resorting to cleaning all her drawers. No avail. Sleeping would obviously be no help either, as it made her thinking the focal point of her concentration. She refused to go downstairs, too- she wasn't ready to face her mother just yet. Unluckily, because the kitchen was also downstairs, she couldn't even distract herself with food. And after skipping dinner, she was absolutely famished. Everything was just really suckish right now, and the exigent circumstances were eating her up alive.

"He wouldn't do this to me," she spoke to herself. "If Eli had my journal, he wouldn't…"

Oh God, Eli had her journal. He had her journal, and she was just realizing it now. All her secrets, her deepest fears and embarrassing confessions- damn it, she had poured her heart out on every page of that thing, and she let it fall into the hands of some Gothic teenage boy! If Clare knew half the existing profanities out there and had the nerve to say then all, that'd be all the neighbours would be hearing tonight.

"Calm, Clare," she coaxed herself, clutching her panicked chest. He wouldn't read it. Eli was a good person, mostly, kind of, as so she assumed, and he wouldn't do that to her.

Grabbing a wool cardigan from her computer chair and slipping it on, she walked to her window and lifted up the glass, inhaling every bit of fresh air she could breathe in. She needed to calm down, she needed to relax, but oh God, he had her journal. She could imagine him now, laughing manically at every stupid comment she made about her stupid life, thinking of ways to use that information against her. If he really did read it, throwing herself at his mercy would be the only real option to her…unless….

In the distance, she could hear a car approaching, which was rare at this time of day. Leaning forward and squinting into the darkness, she made out a long, dark car slowly making its way past her house. The odd shape had her convinced that it was your typical Honda or BMW for that matter. She squinted harder, and as it came closer, she realized that it was unmistakably a vintage hearse.

And the only person she knew who owned a hearse was Eli.

"Eli!" she whisper-cried impulsively. If the night wasn't so dead silent, and if her window wasn't so close to the road, the driver probably wouldn't have heard her. His windows were rolled down, though, and from there she could make out a dark figure that was definitely a male. His hair was male-short, a little wavy, and a little bit ruffled. It must be him.

The hearse stopped, and Clare's heart jumped out of her chest. Why had she called him? What if he wasn't Eli, and was some creeper with a gun in his pocket? What did she just do?

"Is anybody there?" he called vigilantly, and with a breath of relief she recognized the voice.

"Up here, Eli!" she said more loudly, waving her arm around to capture his attention within his peripheral vision.

He cut the engine and got out, making full-on eye contact with her. Even in the dark, Clare could see a grin lit up his face.

"Clare, is that you?" he asked, sounding amused and awestruck at the same time. Thankfully, her bedroom wasn't all that high, and so talking to him wouldn't require strenuous effort on her part. Her voice wasn't as equipped for talking loudly as his was.

"It's me," she smiled, watching him as he ambled closer to the house. "What are you doing out so late?"

"I went to a concert tonight. What about you? Isn't it past your bedtime now?"

"So that's how it is?" she laughed. "You're the one who gets to go to all these late-night concerts while I'm the one tucked into bed at seven o'clock?"

"That's how I see it," he smiled, now eyeing the tree beside him. It was a fairly small one that grew tall enough so that the branches stretched out to her window sill, one that was perfect for climbing. Eli seemed to have noticed this too. With an adventurous glint in his eye, he began to climb the tree.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, utterly shocked by his spontaneity. At most, she had hoped that they could share a few words before he left. She would never in a million years think that he was planning on staying any longer.

"I'm not sneaking up to your room if that's what you're thinking," he snorted, grunting a bit as he heaved himself upwards. "One good thing about gym class…"

"Don't you have to be home soon?" she asked worriedly, gnawing on her lip. "You're gonna hurt yourself Eli!"

"My parents don't have set time of when I should be back," he shrugged, now seated a mere foot away from her. Once settled, he smiled sweetly, waving cutely at her. "Hello."

"Yes, yes, hello Eli, but you are going to get yourself killed," she said, unable to keep the anxiety out of her tone. Her heart was pounding like a bongo drum now, feeling more reckless and dangerous than she had ever felt before. It was the middle of the night, and the boy she was just thinking about was at her window. The boy hadn't even been at her house before, and he was getting a sneak peek of her own bedroom. With any other boy, she would have already put on the breaks. But this was not any other boy, and try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to shoo him away.

"You have to live dangerously, Clare," he said softly, green eyes lighter than she had ever seen them.

"Could you…could you come in, at the very least?" she asked shyly, a furious blush making its way to her cheeks. "I don't want you to catch a cold or- or die, for anything."

Eli arched his brows, looking genuinely surprised yet hesitant at her proposal. He bit his lip, contemplating his decision for few long seconds. Clare felt her hopes sink at once, feeling more and more ridiculous and closer to taking back her offer. Eli must have taken her suggestion the wrong way. He didn't know about her vow for abstinence, and from where they were coming from, the idea wasn't all that absurd.

"Never mind, it's okay if you don't want to," she whispered abruptly , wrapping her arms around her body.

"No, it's not that," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I'm just...surprised, that's all. I've never been to your room before."

"And you may never again if you don't keep quiet," she warned gently, lips curving upwards to mirror Eli's. "Come on."

After hesitating for only a fraction of a second, it had been only a matter of heartbeats before the balls of Eli's feet thudded against her wooden floors. She reached out instinctively to catch him in case he toppled over, but it had been unnecessary. He landed with perfect balance and volume, displaying physical coordination Clare had never really seen him exhibit. Now under the bright fluorescents of her room, she was finally able to drink him in- from the sleekness of his leather jacket, travelling downwards to his dark skinny jeans and black shoes, the entire sight was positively breathtaking. His face was fresh and lively, as if he had all the energy in the world, and his lips were the same perfect Cupid's bow she had remembered from earlier today. His half-smirk was now the death of her after the incident in the library, and the way he gazed at her with those eyes- is was as if he could see straight through her soul.

"Tah-dah," he whispered, euphoria weaving through his low voice.

"You can take a seat if you like," she said, suddenly aware of how underdressed she was. Her blue flannel pyjama bottoms and white, see-through t-shirt made her feel a little self-conscious, but in a different way. There was always nervousness when Eli was around, but also a soothing comfort that she felt with no one else.

He sat on her bed, flinching as it groaned at his weight.

"I don't think it likes you," she tittered, seizing her spinning chair and dragging it across from where he was sitting.

"What about you, Edwards?" he asked, looking down shyly at her naked feet. His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "Do you like me?"

The blatant truth in his question sent an electric current rushing down her spine, as well as another heat wave throughout her entire body. Just as timid as he seemed to be acting, she gazed down at their feet, inching her toes closer to his boot-clad ones in an attempt to stall for time.

"No shoes in the bedroom," she admonished playfully, nudging his boot with her big toe.

Chuckling under his breath, Eli kicked off his shoes, taking his socks off with them. Grinning deviously, Clare dared to place her toes on top of his. It was silly and it was childish, but neither complained; on the contrary, both seemed to be over delighted to be doing what they were doing.

"Is that a yes?" he smiled curiously.

"I invited you in, didn't I?" she answered cryptically, wanting to leave him wondering. She wasn't going to give it up that easily. "I wouldn't have done that if I hated you."

"I don't think Clare Edwards is capable of hating anyone," he teased. "So, what now?" he asked, tracing her foot gingerly.

"You tell me. You're the one who climbed the tree," she pointed out, feeling the glorious tingle he left on her skin.

"And you're the one who called my name," he fired back.

"No one asked you to stay," she rolled her eyes.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No I-"she was cut off by a triumphant grin spreading widely on his face, and with an embarrassing realization, she discovered that she had fallen right in his trap. Her eyes enlarged, before narrowing into tiny little slits.

"You _liiiike _me_,_" he sang in an obnoxious tune.

"Do not," she muttered unconvincingly, pulling her feet away and shifting so that they were sitting on her bed.

"Clare has a crush on me," he crooned smugly. "Is that why you're blushing? I didn't know I had that effect on you."

She let out a quiet groan of false exasperation, touching her heated face. "We happen to have the heat turned on very high around here."

"And yet, you don't see me sporting red patches," he said angelically, folding his legs so that he was sitting Indian-styled.

"Could you be more smug?" she scoffed rhetorically.

"Absolutely!" He replied enthusiastically, followed by yet another smirk.

"One of these days, that smirk is going to get you into trouble," she mumbled.

"I've gotten into a lot of trouble before, Clare; it wouldn't be the first time."

"I'll bet."

And speaking of trouble, she suddenly remembered something very important- something sitting on her wooden desk, just waiting for her to acknowledge its existence. Bouncing up and out of her chair, she strode across her room to pick up the journal that had been giving her nothing but trouble with temptation.

"I think this is yours," she breathed, watching his eyes flash with…what was it? Shock? Terror? "Don't worry, I didn't read any of it- I just saw your name on the first page, and I think we might have accidently swapped books after the fire drill."

"Thanks," he said, grasping the notebook with stiff hands. He stared at it with critical eyes. "I'll… I'll return yours to you tomorrow."

"You didn't realize until now?"

There it was again. The flashing in his eyes. It was like lightening, but as perturbing as thunder. His whole body was as rigid as a board, his Adam's apple bobbling within his constricted throat.

"No, I actually didn't. But I'm glad you told me. I think I'd miss writing in this," he said, smiling a little.

"Okay," Clare said, feeling awkward. She leaned over to close the window, still feeling the chilly air prick her skin. "So, um, how was your evening?"

"It was good, but it was missing something," he sighed, ruffling his hair. "Something… small, like a porcelain doll, and with cerulean eyes. Do you know anything like that?"

"I don't play with dolls anymore," she informed him, taking note of his flirtatiousness.

"I have this feeling that we'll never be getting off of each other's back," he noted with a yawn, stretching his arms up and falling backwards onto her bed. In the midst of this, his shirt rose up, displaying a sliver of his stomach. Clare gulped and sat on her hands, trying to hide their shakiness from Eli. "You're a challenge, Clare."

"Clare!" her mom hollered shrilly, causing Eli to wrench himself in an upright position. He immediately looked to Clare with a worried expression on his face, but she just signalled him to stay still.

"Y-yeah mom?" she stammered, straining her ears to hear if she was coming up the stairs. Eli would never be able to climb out the window and out of sight fast enough to escape her mother's hawk-like sight. She had barely any tolerance for dating in the first place. How on Earth would she react if she found a teenage boy in Clare bedroom, in the middle of the night?

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, there were footsteps, she was coming up oh shit oh shit.

'Under the bed!" she hissed, and Eli scrambled to follow her instructions. She frantically searched the room for an item she could pretend to occupy herself with, stubbing her toe as she fumbled around. "Shut up," she muttered as Eli snickered, and picked up a random novel she had laying around. She deliberately sat right where his head was, using her blanket to conceal her lap as well as the boy underneath her. Inhaling deeply, she fixed her eyes on the tiny print.

"Clare, you've been up here for ages," her mother said wearily, not even bothering to knock prior to entering. There were dark rings under her bloodshot eyes, and Clare tried her best not to gawk at them. Her voice was thick with exhaustion and footsteps dragging, it was difficult for Clare to see her mother abide such suffering. It was harder knowing that the last time she was genuinely happy was beyond was her memory could hold.

"I'm just a little restless," she said hoarsely, scratching her head.

"You didn't even have dinner."

"I'm not hungry," she lied.

"Clare…" the disapproval rang clear in her tone, and the way her hand rested on her hip made it obvious that she was preparing herself for another long-winded lecture.

"Mom, I just had a long day at school," Clare said jadedly. "I'm just not in the mood. It's nothing personal."

"You probably heard your father and I downstairs," she said shortly, spitting at the word _father_. "Clare, I just want you to know that it has nothing to do with you and-"

"I know," she cut her off, rubbing her forehead stressfully. "I know it's between you and dad. I get it mom, I just want need some time to take it all in."

Pressing her lips into a tight, stern line, her mother said nothing for the first full minute. She then sighed, and nodded reluctantly.

"I just don't want to lose you, honey. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I love you, mom," she whispered, giving her a tiny, reassuring smile. Her chest was painfully tight from the previous feelings rushing through her again, and resisting the tears became a challenge once again. She couldn't cry, though. Not again, and certainly not when Eli was in her room.

"I love you too, Clare-bear. I'll see you in the morning," her mother whispered solemnly, slowly receding before shutting the door behind her. With a huge sigh of relief, Clare whipped off her quilt and massaged her temples, strenuously attempting to smooth out the headache now forming in her head. The torpid, aching sensation wrapped around her like coarse rope knotted tightly at her torso, sucking every bit of life out of her.

"She's gone," she told him, hurrying to regain her posture. She hoped that he wouldn't interrogate her now about her family situation, because she was in no mood to discuss it.

"Wow, your floors are a lot cleaner than mine," Eli mused as he slivered out, something pink clipped between his fingers. "I found this though- any chance I can take this home as a souvenir?"

On her index, he was twirling a thin piece of fabric, and as Clare leaned forward to take a closer look, she let out a humiliated gasp.

"Eli!" she squeaked, reaching forward to snatch her panties back from him. It was official. Her face was the colour of a tomato. "Give me that!"

"Oh, that's hot," he breathed through his nose, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"That's it, out," Clare ordered, pointing at the window with a scowl on her face.

"Alright, I'm going," he laughed, putting his hands up in from of him and moseying on over to where he came from. He expertly pulled up the glass with a swift flick of his wrist, and leaped over to the highest, branch. Clare kept her arms crossed and glare firm as she watched him turn around and wink. "Good night, Clare."

It didn't take long for Eli to find his way down the tree and back to his car. Clare waited until she heard him drive away before shutting off the lights, and crawled into bed shortly after.

She sniffed, and found that his scent lingered on her sheets.


	14. Chapter 14

**Tah- dah !**

* * *

><p><strong>Eli:<strong>

_Can't pry it out of my dead hands, because it's a guarantee_

_Can't pry it out of my dead hands, because I'm taking it with me_

_Can't pry it out of my dead hands, because it's a gift I got for free_

_It's the one thing that I have I'm taking with me_

_It's the only thing that matters in this world_

_Jules, she makes me feel alive again. She's the only thing that makes me feel like… I could ever get better. I still love you, and I'm not betraying you, but there's none of that intensity between us that we had back before, you know? But I am so scared of tainting her, Jules, she's so pure. I don't want to ruin her life like you ruined mine. I love you, but you ruined me. It's because you died that I have to work for your dad, it's because of you that he beats me up. But it's because of me that I let him…_

Eli closed his journal with a satisfied puff of air, gazing fondly at it. It had been way too long.

Today was Friday, which meant he had yet another midnight shift at the grave. Thinking back, it probably wasn't the best idea to climb that tree last night, considering he had scratched himself at least twenty times, but he didn't regret it. He got to see Clare's room, lie on her bed-and of course, the highlight of it all, hold her underwear. The lamest smile spread across his face as he remembered the priceless look on her face.

The sexual tension in that room was absolutely ridiculous, but exhilarating. With Julia, it had taken them until second base for him to really get turned on. And even with as far as they went, it couldn't even come close to the intimacy he and Clare had shared playing footsie- _footsie,_ for Christ's sake! It sounded preposterous, he knew, and completely irrational. But there's something about a bedroom that makes things a little more nerve-raking…perhaps it was the bed that was strongly suggestive? Or the whole notion of sneaking up to see a girl he was starting to have feelings for? Yes, he admitted it. Eli was developing romantic feelings for Clare, and there was no denying it.

He stumbled into the change room in a haze, still intoxicated from last night's occurrences. He couldn't wait for lunch to roll around. He couldn't wait to see Clare again. And knowing that each agonizingly slow tick on the clock meant he was closer to being with her once more, would be enough to fuel his perseverance.

"What's wrong emo boy? Too insecure about your body to strip in front of us?" Fitz cooed mockingly, eliciting a burst of guffaws from his idiotic cronies. Eli rolled his eyes dramatically, having grown used to his unsubtle insults and taunts.

"You're hilarious. No seriously, stop it. You're killing me," he said flatly, chugging down the contents of his plastic water bottle. Fitz scowled at his blasé manner. He reached out, and before Eli could stop him, he tilted his bottle downwards with such force that the water came splashing all over his lap.

"Funny enough for you to wet your pants," he declared smugly, causing another riot to erupt from his buddies.

_Asshole._

Eli clenched his teeth together, glaring scornfully at him with balled fists_. _White hot blood boiled under his skin, pumping at dangerous speed throughout his veins, and it took him every ounce of willpower not to deck him right in his conceited face. What Fitz did to him was never enough to prompt him into doing something drastic. He knew that retaliation was never the key. He knew that he was outnumbered, and that he'd just be making a war out of a measly fight of provocation. But damn it, it was so tempting, and if he wanted to see Clare, he couldn't risk being suspended.

He simply stood up, ignoring the howls of laughter directed towards him when water dripped further down his pants. Without a fear in the world, he walked straight up to Fitz, eyes blazing with something deadly and positively frightening.

"Funny enough to confirm that you're incapable of being the bigger man," he said lowly. If looks could really kill, Fitz would be ten feet underground with a bruise in a _certain _area right now.

"Out of the change rooms!" The gym teacher bellowed, storming inside. He zeroed in on Eli's lack of uniform. "Goldsworthy, where's your shirt and shorts?"

"I'm changing," he murmured, gasping sharply when Fitz purposely bumped his shoulder. An excruciating pain seared through his shoulder and upper arm, another gentle reminder of why he couldn't afford to get involved in a physical fight.

"Freak," Fitz snarled under his breath.

A freak he was, indeed- who else bears more purple blossoming bruises than he did on his body, and voluntarily go through hell to keep them a secret? A pathetic, guilty excuse for a moron desperate to atone for sins he hadn't committed on his own, that's who. Though sometimes, it was easier to pretend that the drunk driver who ran over her didn't exist. Instead of bottling up anger that would be directed towards someone he didn't know, he occupied himself with plentiful guilt for initiating their fight in the first place. If he hadn't interrogated her, and if he hadn't been so obsessed with discovering the truth behind her countless absences, than Julia would still be alive. She wouldn't have stormed out on her bike, and she wouldn't have left him with an irreparable heart.

"I'd like to get my hands on the guy who invented this pathetic excuse for a sport," Eli grumbled to no one in particular, concentrating intensely on shadowing the large boy in front of him.

"You're telling me," the boy panted, incessantly swiping his damp bangs out of his face.

He had to admit- he was kind of disgusted by how profusely that boy was sweating, but figured that hiding behind him would be his best bet. The red rubber balls were flying haphazardly in the air, all of which he narrowly avoiding with the aid of the massive shied in front of him. Gym was never his favourite subject, but now that Fitz and his buddies seemed to really have it in for him, it was his personal hell on Earth.

"Dang it," the boy frowned, roughly bouncing the ball that had hit him on the ground. Eli watched in panic as he shambled over to the bleachers, eyes darting around in search for a new shield.

"You're next, emo boy," Fitz announced ominously, lips curving into a sinister smile.

Shit.

It all then happened very fast. One second, he was backed up against the wall, watching a red ball being hurled at him in slow motion. The next, he was on the ground, curled up in a fetal position. He was writhing uncontrollably now, and the voices around him faded into a distant whisper.

* * *

><p><em>Can't pry it out of my dead hands… Can't pry it out of my dead hands…Can't pry it out of my dead hands…<em>

"_Freak."_

"_You're not my father Eli, I don't need you to protect me!"_

"_I'm not going to leave you right now."_

"_That's far past delusional, kid, even for you."_

_It's the only thing that matters in this world…It's the only thing that matters in this world…_

"_Don't leave Jules!"_

"_You're not in charge of me, Eli! If I want to leave, I can damn well leave without your permission."_

"_You're going back to _there_, aren't you?'_

"_So what if I am?"_

"_The Ravine's not a safe place, Jules-"_

"_Don't call me that! Just leave me alone, Eli."_

"_You're drunk; you're not in the right state of mind. Don't do this, Julia please."_

"_Ugh, why can't you stop worrying so much? I don't need you, and I don't want you, so just let me go!"_

"Chill, man," someone said. "You're the only person I know who can't turn cool under ice- hey, that was a good one, don't you think?"

"Yes, Mr. Torres, you are very cool."

"Haha, I see what you did there. But If I'm cool…does that mean you're hot?"

"Please don't tell me you're hitting on the school nurse again, Drew. How many times do I have to tell you: forty- something is not your type."

Eli stirred, squinting at the dim lights gleaming down at him. His back ached dully, as if being stretched and strained at the same time.

"Mr. Goldsworthy, how are you feeling?" A middle-aged woman dressed in white scrutinized him with another ice pack in her hand, shadowed by two very familiar-looking boys.

"I'm just peachy," he moaned sarcastically, trying not to wince too hard. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Drew and I were in the other gym fetching an extra ball rack when we witnessed your um…thing," Adam explained uncomfortably, tugging on his beanie. "I thought I recognized you, so we offered to take you to the nurse's."

"You should be familiar with your surroundings, Mr. Goldsworthy- this isn't your first time here," the nurse admonished. "Is anything wrong? You can tell-"

"I'm fine," he muttered abruptly, forcing himself out of the hard, uncomfortable cot and onto his feet. "What period is it?"

"First lunch. Mr. Goldsworthy-"

"I need to go now, thanks for your help," he said, averting his gaze as he rushed out the door. He quickly picked up his pace, wanting to shove all memory of the incident behind. And even though he can't even remember most of it, he just thought of it as another mess to clean up later. Walking with a bit of a limp, Eli dodged gossipy freshmen and large groups of girls avidly discussing their new year's plans. People stared at his awkward strut, whispering lightning-fast rumours to each other as they scrutinized the poor, injured boy. Eli rolled his eyes. He cared little for what people thing, but it did annoy him that they made assumptions quicker than they could give him an once-over.

"Hey man, are you sure you're okay?" Drew asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He let out a hiss and jumped at the contact, freezing dead in his tracks. He closed his eyes- as if that would subdue the dull stinging.

"I told you, I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure?" Abysmally oblivious or annoying persistent- take your pick.

"Did I stutter?" he said harshly, eyeballs lolling to the back of his head and into focus.

"Eli, dude, you're limping," Drew pointed out plainly, matching his strides easily. Students were starting to fill the hallways, crowding into what little space Eli had to move. Better yet, Drew's shoulders were unnaturally broad, and often nudged Eli's scrawny ones.

"That is brand new information," he muttered mordantly.

"Maybe you should get that leg checked or something- wouldn't want to sit out of gym classes, would you?"

Okay, so maybe there were some ups to this. Eli said nothing, but nodded approvingly.

"Look man, I just want to make things right- help you, I mean. You know what I'm saying?" Drew looked hesitantly at him.

"You don't owe me anything," Eli said, with every word strained and curt. "I thank you for taking me to the nurse's, that's it. My leg is fine, I'm fine."

Oh, how he sounded like Julia. Oh, the irony.

"I was just trying to help," he mumbled, now shuffling away. _Thank God._

And there she was, elbows propped on the cafeteria table and head rested against her tiny fist. Her forehead creased in concentration, as she focused intently on whatever work she was doing.

Touching the glass the separated the hallways from the cafeteria, he shuddered. It was ridiculous how nervous he still felt about being around her.

He approached her. Closer and closer they were, and as the distance between them started to shorten, he felt the bubbling sensation boil in the pits of his stomach.

"Eli," she greeted warmly, but no smile was on her face. "What happened to you?"

Frowning, he glanced over himself. "What are you talking about?"

"Come here," she said, patting the seat right next to her. Her eyebrows were stitched with concern, her gaze never wavering. In spite of her seriousness, Clare had looked absolutely adorable with her big doe-like eyes and all, and as Eli took his seat, he couldn't help but shiver blissfully. His knees had brushed hers, and for some reason there was no pain, no sting. Just brilliant electricity.

She leaned forward, causing Eli to suck in a sharp breath. The aroma of sweet vanilla came off her clothes and hair and invaded his senses, thickening the murky fog in his brain. Her ivory skin was tantalizing, just begging him to cup her face, caress her cheeks, and stroke her forehead with the pad of his thumb. His hands twitched in anticipation.

"What class did you come from?" she inquired quietly, touching his cheek.

_What class did he come from? Science? English? No, not English idiot she would have know. Oh crap, damn this mother-"_

"Gym," he said hoarsely, clearing his throat.

"Did Fitz…?"

"How did you...?"

"That day in the parking lot," she murmured, stretching out her fingers agonizingly slow. Eli inhaled deeply as her hand molded to cup his face, feeling the softness of her skin smooth against his own. "I've also seen you with an ice pack for more times than I can count."

"I'm not good at dodge ball," he said pathetically. His eyes searched hers, his guard lowering subconsciously. He wasn't worried about appearing weak at the very moment; on the contrary, he felt very safe and secure around her.

"It was deliberate, Eli," she said in a nearly inaudible voice. "There's no way he could make the same mistake over and over again. You have to talk to him."

"He doesn't strike me as the type to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with, Clare," he said pragmatically.

She released her hand, shaking her head disapprovingly. "That's a nasty bruise you have there. Do you really want to get another one?"

Eli let out an exasperated breath of air, propping his own elbow on the table and mussing with his hair in contemplation. "It's not that easy."

"I know," she said sympathetically. "But try, okay?"

The texture of her voice was so soft, so pleading- saying no to her would feel a hell lot like stepping on a puppy.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked irritably, dejectedly. "I can't just-"

"Aw, don't you two look cute?"

Eli's muscles coiled instinctively as a hand slammed down their table, causing Clare to jump. She let out a small gasp, and fearfully cowered closer to him.

Fitz was towering over the two, the same haughty expression plastered over his narrow face like paint on a canvas. Noticing that he had purposely chose to stand on Clare's side angered him to say the least, but seeing that he found amusement out of _frightening _her made him livid. His protective instincts took over him, and before he knew it, he was up on his feet as well. Clare was safely hidden behind him, peering past his body, and Eli was right up against the insolently disrespectful, shamelessly presumptuous teenage boy. He had to crane his neck a bit to meet his eyes, but this didn't deter his nerves one bit.

"What do you want?" he asked in a low, but menacing voice. He was careful not to scare Clare even more than she already was.

"Who's this?" Fitz grinned at the small girl behind him, completely ignoring his question. "Hi, cutie."

"You didn't answer my question," Eli pressed, feeling more and more enraged by the minute. His fists were clenched so tightly at his sides, his knuckles were turning white.

"Your snarky-ass comments started something, man, and I plan to end it." Fitz smiled maliciously at him, but shifted towards Clare again. "So cutie, you got a boyfriend?"

"She's not interested," he growled, shoving him roughly to put some distance between him and Clare. "Why don't you just leave us alone, and we can go back to ignoring each other's existence?"

The cafeteria plagued with silence. Every eye was now on them, some nervous, some worried, others pleased by the engrossing show being out on before them.

"I'm sure she can speak for herself," Fitz said, looking at Clare again.

"Go away, Fitz," she said softly, surprising everyone who could hear her. Eli swore he heard someone say '_so that's what Saint Clare sounds like!' _"Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely." He winked suggestively at her. "I'll catch you later emo boy."

Eli didn't stop glaring daggers at him until he left the cafeteria, still seething over what had just happened. He wasn't sure if it was just the feelings of disdain he harbored for him that was enraging him anymore, but he felt something else in the latter. Watching him audaciously saunter over to him and disturb his lunch was one thing, but having to watching him openly flirt with the girl he liked…well, now things were really personal.

"Eli, look at him," she coaxed, tugging on his sleeve. Reluctantly he turned, face still contorted with fiery resentment. "Look at me. Don't let him get to you, okay? He's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"It's working," he muttered, plopping back down on his seat. "Sorry you had to see that."

"Don't worry about it," she smiled lightly, tucking a strand of curly hair behind her ear. "Come on, why don't you eat something? Do you have a lunch?"

He shook his head.

"Well then, I guess it's my turn to return the favour, hm?" With a slight sparkle in her eye, she reached into a brown bag she had sitting next to her messy spread of books, and pulled out a yummy-looking oatmeal cookie. "It's supposed to be nutritional."

"I'm not a health nut, but since you made it…" a smile tugged on the corners of his lips as he brought the treat to his mouth. "Oh my God, Clare."

"Do you like it?" she asked warily, putting her fingers to her lips.

"I love it," he moaned, devouring the rest of the large cookie. "That's it, we're opening up a cooking school. We are not letting good talent go into waste."

"By 'we', I hope you mean you, me, and my mom, because she did most of the work," she laughed cheerfully, taking out a second cookie and breaking it in half- at least, she attempted to. The cookie crumbled between her fingers, creating a mess of brown crumbs. "Oops."

"I got it." With a wicked smile on his face, Eli scooped up a handful of crumbs and brought it to Clare's face. "Open wide, Clare."

She giggled and obeyed, tilting her head backwards and welcoming the delicious goodness as it melted in her tongue. Cookie crumbs began to sprinkle into her lap, prompting Clare to push his hand away with a silly grin on her face.

"Elijah Goldsworthy, look at the mess you made!" she scolded playfully, gesturing her lap as he impulsively reached out to brush the morsels off of her.

"Sorry miss, I didn't mean to- sorry!" he blurted the last word, quickly withdrawing his hand back when she let out a soft yelp. Unintentionally, his hand had rubbed her inner thighs, dangerously close to somewhere he secretly wanted to venture.

She scooted her chair back immediately, clamping her legs together inconspicuously. A furious blush made its way up her cheeks, but much to Eli's alarm, an even darker one had already spread across his. He gulped nervously. Clare averted her gaze,

"Sorry, sorry, that wasn't intentional," he said hastily, mentally smacking his forehead. He had made it sound like the thought had ever crossed his mind, and though it did, he didn't want her to think that he was some creepy pervert. "I mean, it was an accident I didn't really think about-"

"Eli!" Imogen exclaimed, appearing to come out of nowhere. And for the first time, he was grateful for the interruption.

"Hey Imogen," he greeted huskily, scratching his neck awkwardly. "What's up?"

"I am very glad you asked, Eli," she beamed, looking as if she was ready to launch into details. "It's my birthday is coming up shortly, and I am hosting a small dinner party at an elegant little restaurant by Main Street. Fiona Coyne is attending, and I would be absolutely delighted you could, too."

"Cool. Who else will be there?"

"Fiona will be inviting her boyfriend Adam Torres, and Drew and his girlfriend Bianca DeSousa are coming as well. I was hoping, that perhaps you would be my date for the evening," she said sweetly, batting her lashes ever so subtly. "It is my birthday, after all."

"Maybe Clare could come too," he suggested, wanting to bring her in the conversation as well. Clare's eyes widened in surprise, having not been expected to be included in their little exchange.

"Hello Clare Edwards," Imogen said softly, a small smile on her face. Her eyes, however, were clouded with something darker than its usual chocolate brown. "I remember you."

The way she said it was so eerily, so spooky, it was as if she and Clare had some sort of secret.

"Hello Imogen," Clare said politely, twiddling her thumbs uncomfortably.

"So, you two know each other," Eli said.

"Yes, and I would love it if you could come, Clare Edwards," Imogen said smoothly.

"Oh, I don't think..."

"Clare," Eli murmured earnestly, persuading her with his eyes. She pursed her lips glanced down, legs still compressed together tightly.

"Perhaps you could bring a date, "Imogen suggested with a smile, and the thought triggered something volatile in Eli's chest.

"Or maybe we could just all go together," he forced through gritted teeth, before Clare could accept or decline. "I don't think that will be necessary, Imogen."

She looked crestfallen for a quarter of a second, and Eli contemplated feeling guilty. But the disappointment was quickly erased, replaced with a mysterious, curious look.

"Hmm. Very well then. The odd number will be a bit difficult to work with, but I suppose I'll find a way to make it work. Good-bye for now, you two."

She flitted away, but hadn't disappeared completely from sight before saying "Oh, and I had a wonderful time at the concert the other night! We should go out again sometime soon!"

"It wasn't a date," Eli explained quickly, waving to Imogen. "Fiona was there."

"You're acting as if we're exclusive," Clare teased a bit. "I'm not your mother, Eli, you don't have to explain everything to me."

He pressed his lips together, saying nothing at first. "So, are you coming?"

"To be honest, I don't want to," she sighed. "But seeing how I was invited, I don't think I can back out of it."

The bell rang, and Eli grudgingly picked up his bag. Clare hurried to collect all her books in a neat pile, leaning over to his side so that she could reach them all. As a last- chance at persuasion, Eli bent forward towards her ear, standing up as he did.

"Come on Edwards," he whispered influentially, lips a razor-thin distance from the shell of her ear. "Live a little."

With a slight quiver in her lips, Clare stood up and walked away, giving him a brief smile that nether indicated whether she decided on going, nor let him know what she really thought about where they stood.

**Clare: **

And the worst part was, _she forgot to ask him for her journal._

"Um, Clare?" Adam said tentatively. Mashing a pillow to her face, Clare let out a muffled moan, wiggling around in exasperation. Drew just laughed at her frustration, shoving the remains of his burger into his mouth and dumping himself right next to her on the couch. With a shriek, Clare slid towards him from the sudden slant, automatically putting the cushion between them as a barrier.

"Not my fault," Drew declared irrelevantly, draping his arm around her shoulder.

"Stop-stop being so heavy," Clare groused, pushing at his chest.

"Stop being so not-heavy."

"That's real mature," she scoffed, unamused. "Get off of me!"

"Whoa," he said, sounding impressed. He looked at Adam who shrugged and continued to scribble the rest of his answers on a sheet of paper. "Someone's feisty today."

"How did I forget?" Clare groaned, sitting down on the floor beside Adam.

"I don't know, love can do strange things to a person," Adam said sagely, keeping his eyes on his homework.

"Whaaaat?" Drew barked, shooting up. "Clare's got a lover?" He looked alarmed, but only for a second; he then slapped a hand against his chest, looking immensely relieved. "Oh thank God. I was so worried you were turning into a nun."

At lightning speed, Adam's arm cut across the air, and a small pink thing flew across the floor. With a scream, Drew's face whipped to the side, contorting in pain.

"Just because a person's never dated before, doesn't automatically mean she's a nun," Adam said coolly, before resuming to his work. It was a touchy subject, Clare knew- anything that was related to making assumptions based on someone's dating history would hit a nerve. After having spent a large part of his childhood being a girl, and being picked on for taking no interest in boys, it had become an extremely sensitive topic to Adam.

"I didn't mean it that way," Drew apologized, rubbing his face.

He shrugged, and didn't look up again.

"So who is this guy, anyway?" Drew prodded, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "And what about him thawed you out?"

"There is no guy, and I was never frozen," Clare deadpanned.

"Then why are you all emotional?"

"He just…we swapped journals, and he hadn't turned mine quite yet."

"What a douche."

"Drew." She reprimanded.

"Want me to beat him up?"

"Adam," Clare groaned, seeking liberation from his brother's frivolous comments.

"Drew, go find your girlfriend and make sure you guys are matchy-matchy for tomorrow night."

"Oh yeah, Imo's having a party. Clare, you coming?" he asked.

"Go," she said, pointing at the door with a stern frown.

"So, what's the deal with you and Eli?" Adam asked nonchalantly after the door slammed shut.

'He kind of...invited me to Imogen's party," she said slowly. Seeing his face expand in shock, she quickly added "we're just friends, Adam. In fact, I think he just did that to avoid being her date."

"Drama," he commented sympathetically. "So, are you going?"

"I don't know. Imogen is kind of intimidating," Clare said, sounding completely conflicted.

"So what, you're going to let some girl come in the way of you and Eli?" Adam arched his eyebrow questionably.

"First of all, there isn't a '_me and Eli'_. And secondly…yes, I think I am," she sighed dejectedly. "You should have seen them, Adam. They look perfect together, and I don't want to interfere."

Gazing at his best friend with disapproval gleaming in his eye, he put down his pencil and turned to face her, hands clasped together neatly in his lap. Clare reiterated hesitantly, feeling unsure of what he was going to say.

"Do you remember what I said at all?" he queried evenly. His calmness was starting to freak her out.

"Yes but-"

"No buts, Clare. You can't be afraid all the time, and you definitely can't act like there's nothing going on between you and this kid. I've seen it in your eyes when you talk about him- there's something brewing, more than you led on to be. Now, I'm not saying that you want to get with him exactly, but if you do, then remember this: if you want something you never had, you're going to have to do something you never done."

Clare frowned in defeat. "Your sagacious words, though inspirational, are completely uncharacteristic."

"Hey, I can be deep," he said pointedly, humorously jabbing a thumb towards his chest.

"Then, O' Wise One, shall I attend Imogen's soiree or not?" Clare giggled, crossing her arms and cocking her head to the side.

"The answer lies within you, oh grasshopper," he said ominously, letting out a yelp when Clare swatted him. "Fine. Translation: hell yeah, you ain't ditching your best buddy. Plus, stiff, formal dinners means dressing up. Don't you girls like that?"

"Wonderful," Clare groaned, slumping against the back of an armchair. "I don't believe I have anything remotely fancy to wear."

"So go shopping," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm sure Fi would love you come with you."

"I think I'll past," Clare said quietly. She wasn't ready to deal with more cryptic warnings and incessantly changing moods on Fiona's part. "Her style is a little too ostentatious for my taste."

"You could go with your mom?" he suggested awkwardly.

"That'd be too much to ask of her- especially if she lets me go." Clare's eyes trail downwards, her lower lip jutted out just a bit. Adam hated to think that he was partly responsible for Clare's discontent, and would have volunteered to come dress-shopping with her if he didn't have so much homework and a reputation to defend- the teasing had simmered down significantly from when he first came out, and he had been more than okay these days with Clare, Drew and Fiona by his side. As selfish as he was behaving, he couldn't risk throwing away all the progress he made thus far. What would people say when they see him shopping in a women's department store?

"I could ask Drew to take you there," he offered guiltily, throwing his brother in the flames.

"I don't think he'd be very willing, but thanks," Clare smiled mildly, appreciating his efforts.

"No, seriously," Adam insisted, eager to lift his conscience. "He has a learner's permit, and he's an idiot. It won't be hard to string him along."

Clare's lips slowly curved upwards. "Have I ever mentioned that you're the best friend in the world?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Goodness, reading over Imogen's part makes me laugh harder than I should. ._.**

**Haha, on another note, I can't believe I reached sixty reviews on this story! Thank you,thank you, THANK you to those who reviewed. An extra THANKYOU for those who reviewed more than once, and whose has been reading this from the very beginning. If I could actually bear hug you all, I'd be more than happy to do so!**

**_ForverInYourArms , clareandeliforever, KitKat0219 (snorts) _thank you for all your kind words! And I'll be honest; when I saw _The Cliffhanger Girl _on my page, I freaked out harder than I probably should have lol.**

**ENJOOOOOOOY !**

* * *

><p><strong>Clare: <strong>

"Hello?"

"Hi, Clare, I hope I'm not bothering you or anything but- is that Hotblack I hear in the background?"

Clare's heart fluttered when she heard Eli's voice through her receiver, and quickly proceeded to lower the volume on her stereo, keeping the phone sandwiched between her ear and shoulder.

"By Oceanship," she smiled, absentmindedly continuing her drawings of various shapes and symbols on a scrap piece of paper. She had been admittedly productive for the past few hours, indulging herself in mindless doodling and enigmatic story writing on an old, battered notebook lying around. Though an unpopular opinion, Clare preferred handwriting everything rather than typing on the computer- there was an air of classicality and authenticity that came with handwriting, something that a modern machine could not provide. She liked old-fashion touches like that. It was who she was.

"And next time around, you're gonna be telling me that you like Augustana and The Fray," he teased, sounding completely at ease.

"Actually, I do. _Boston _is one of my favourite songs, and I like _You Found Me_," she said thoughtfully, before adding, "I listen to that when I'm feeling sad."

"Hmm," he mused. "Well, I just wanted to confirm your attendance for Imogen's dinner a few days from now- you don't have to go, but I think Fiona and Adam would love you have you there. Besides, it's Christmas break." She glanced at her calendar, and sure enough, eh was right. The winter break had already begun, and she hadn't even realized it.

"And you?" she dared, apprehensively gnawing on her lower lip, hoping that he would answer in a way that would give her jitters. "Would you like to have me there?"

"I wouldn't mind," he said evasively, and Clare couldn't help but feel her stomach drop at his response. She wouldn't press, though- she wouldn't dare venture any further. "Imogen needs to know the set number ASAP."

"Well, considering Drew should be here any moment to take me dress shopping, I guess you can say I've already decided," she joked rather meekly, wondering if this was such a good idea in the first place. Everyone would be bring dates, and if things went accordingly, she would be subjected to play the role of the seventh- wheel- something she wasn't too thrilled about.

But it was too late to back out now, and Adam wanted her to come. _Do this for Adam, Clare, it's for Adam._

"Oh," he said quietly, and Clare would detect the crestfallen tone that coloured his voice. She contemplated pointing out to him that they were strictly friends, but there were two things that stopped her from doing so. One being that Eli and her were not exclusive, so she needn't feel obligated to explain herself to him. They were treading friendship waters, a recent leap in progress that despite not having been said, was pretty clear to them both. There was a natural spark between them that strongly encouraged interaction between them, and whether they were meant to be _more _than that, Clare wasn't sure. Two being that he had spoken again before she could jump to her defence.

"Drew Torres," he said lowly. Clare frowned at the slight acid that dripped through his voice. "How could I have not seen it before?"

Her face scrunched up in confusion, taken aback by the sudden venom. "What are you...what are you talking about?"

"It didn't even cross my mind at the time," he hissed, no longer addressing her anymore. "Torres was there in the nurse's office, damn it!"

"Adam's brother," she said lamely, tentatively. _Did she say something wrong?_

"He should know," Eli muttered, letting out a low, sinister chuckle that alarmed Clare even more. He was muttering to himself again. This was not a good sign. "You're friends with him, he didn't even tell you, that asswipe…"

"Eli," she whispered.

"I'll take you, Clare. Don't move," he ordered menacingly.

"Wait- no, Eli!"

There was a click, signaling the end of their conversation.

* * *

><p>The moment a black vintage hearse pulled upon her driveway, Clare locked the door behind her, hurrying to depart before her mother realized she was leaving in a shady-looking car. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, and she began to wonder what on Earth was getting herself into. Which Eli was picking he up, she had no idea. And yet here she was, flinging herself in the clear out of sheer injudiciousness, just hoping it wasn't the panicky, anxiety-attack prone Eli that she had seen in he abandoned church that she was running off with.<p>

"A little eager, are we?" Eli asked, as Clare all but thrusted herself onto the passenger seat.

"Let's go," she panted, eyeing the curtains drawn inside her living room. "Unless you want my mom to come run outside and go completely berserk on you."

"Leaving in a mysterious vehicle without her sanction," he said bleakly, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

"I don't think I really had a choice," she said softly, referring to his abrupt hang-up on her just ten minute ago.

"I feel like you trust me too much," he whispered roughly, pale hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"You're not going to hurt me Eli," she said gingerly, but sternly.

"How do you know?" he spat harshly, gnashing his teeth together. Clare's inner voice reprimanded him for his callous tone, scolding her for going along with his unconstrained behaviour. But still, he stated a valid point- how _did _she know? "You don't know me well enough, Clare."

"_Are you _going to hurt me?" she questioned, trying her hardest to sound unruffled.

"I would try…very hard not to," he uttered with much difficulty, still not meeting her eyes. "But I can't make any guarantees- what you saw in the abandoned place of worship is only a sliver of what I'm capable of doing. I don't…have the best track record, Clare."

"And what makes you think that I don't have a dark past as well?" she defied, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You've got to be kidding me," he snorted, slamming his hand on the wheel. Clare flinched, but remained unfazed by his outburst.

"What does that even mean? Where is this all even coming from?"

"God, Clare, you're so naïve!" he rolled his eyes.

"_Naïve?" _she reiterated scornfully, feeling something unfamiliar seethe in her stomach."How am I supposed to know anything when you won't even tell me?"

"It's better that way," he whispered grimly.

"Then why did you insist on taking me here? If you're so dangerous, then why couldn't you have just let Drew take me?" she said exasperatedly.

"Because he's a vindictive monster who won't stop at anything to get what he wants!" he roared spitefully, glaring at her before stomping on the accelerator. The sudden velocity forced her forward, and her hands flew out before her to prevent her body from colliding into the hard car front. She gasped and widened her eyes, looking to Eli with a frightened expression on her face.

And for the first time, she saw him for the monster he was.

"Let me out," she said hoarsely. She didn't care that they were in the middle of the road, she just needed to escape.

"I-no," he choked, picking up on speed.

"I don't know what your deal is, Eli," she said shakily. "But if you're going to talk about my friend like that, I can't be around you."

"Clare, you don't understand," he murmured pleadingly.

"Then enlighten me- tell me what you have against him."

"I can't," he said roughly. "Not now."

"Well, I guess we have a problem here." She stated frostily.

"You can't be around him, Clare. I'm not good for you, but he- he's even worse."

Goodness, this was getting to be too much. After palming her face for the longest time, endeavouring to steady her heavy breathing, Clare lifted her sweaty face. Her patience, something she's never had much of a problem with before, was thinning at a significantly high rate. So many things she wanted to say and do, she resisted. Calmly now, she would openly discuss this like a mature adult, and hoping he would do the same.

"If that were theoretically true," she said slowly, "then your logic would be slightly flawed. Wouldn't it be most prudent to avoid you both?"

Eli opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

She had done the impossible. She had left Elijah Goldsworthy speechless.

"And, if I don't know you as well as you tell me I don't, I should choose Drew over you, no? Considering, I've known him longer than I've known you."

Silence. Clare's lips curved into a tiny grin of triumph.

"I'm still going to find a dress, if you're wondering. I promised Adam I would go, and even with this little tuffle, I'm not going to let him down."

It wasn't long before they reached the mall, and so Clare's timing had worked out brilliantly. As she slammed the door and began to march away, another new feeling surged through her; her throat was dry from talking so much again, but there was also something else. Something that she knew was always buried deep inside her, but was too afraid to search for. It was…satisfying, speaking her mind like that. Something had ignited in her chest, and it was as if she found a newborn sense of assertiveness, and courage.

"I've never seen that in you before," Eli murmured in awe, his voice not far behind.

Clare turned around, preparing to shoo him away. He'd done enough damage today.

But his green orbs were lighter now, and the harsh lines of his face had softened notably. The monster in him had faded away.

"You're not that push-over everyone pegs you to be anymore," he elaborated, purposely leaving a long distance between them as he spoke.

"Thanks to you," Clare said softly, gazing deeply at him, as if to say _welcome back, Eli. _Oh, and she was horrible at holding grudges if anything. She'd have more luck holding a bowling ball in her tiny hands of hers.

"I'm not gonna lie. I still don't completely agree with you," he admitted. "But I am sorry for lashing out at you like that. Again. I don't want to put you in that situation again, Clare, it's not fair of me."

"I forgive you," she said, smiling timidly at him, just wanting to move past all of this.

"And you still forgive me so easily," he sighed, smiling sadly at her in return. "But thank you."

"Honestly, Eli, what else I am supposed to do?" she asked rhetorically. "Continue to be angry at you when you're clearly sorry?"

"Another reason why you're the saint," he said teasingly.

"Are you…going to tell me why you don't like Drew?" Clare asked tentatively, closing the distance between them. She had to crane her neck a bit too meet his eyes, but their height difference was perfect otherwise.

"Maybe someday," he said evasively, and she could see that that was the best he could offer.

* * *

><p><strong>Eli:<strong>

"So New Year's," Eli mentioned suggestively, watching Clare lick her ice cream cone as if he was in a trance. He licked his lips subconsciously, trying to contain all the imaginative scenarios that played in his head. He had teased her for rejecting all the hot food choices in the favour of a cold treat, when they were in the midst of a chilly Canadian winter season. She simply stuck out her tongue in response, and in that moment, Eli had wanted nothing more than to capture it with his own. It was ridiculous how tantalizing her actions were without her even noticing, and this frustrated Eli to no end. In the short second her tongue was out and exposed to him, he let out some of this frustration by doing something completely impulsive and unexpected- in a flash, he reached out and grabbed her tongue, smirking when her eyes bulged out.

"Lep me gao!" She had frowned, seizing his wrist and shoving it high up in the air and out of reach. His smirk had only grown more profound, and he retaliated by poking her armpits- a spot of which he quickly discovered was her weakness. She had let out a squeak, bouncing away, and Eli had burst into guffaws. Her face had been priceless, something he wished he had captured on camera.

"What about it?" Clare asked, finishing off her crispy cone. She was referring to his comment about the New Year's. They entered the first store of the day, after bickering for what seemed like forever in the food court.

"Do you have any plans?" He tried to sound nonchalant. He tried to conceal the curiosity burning in his throat, and tried to pass off as casual by leaning on one of the racks. Unfortunately, there were wheels hidden on the bottom that he didn't see, and with a small application of pressure, the rack went rolling off. Before he knew it, mannequins came knocking down on him, bounding off his head and it odd directions.

"Eli!" Clare dissolved into a fit of giggles, clasping a hand over her laughing mouth.

"Sorry, Mam, just admiring this fine display of mannequins you got here," he apologized to the frowning lady, scratching his head shamefacedly. Clare didn't hesitate to help him clean up, but couldn't stop laughing the entire time.

"Hold on, I need to capture this moment on my phone," she gasped, fumbling for her cell. Of course she needed a red-faced Eli as her wallpaper.

Exaggerating a sarcastic smile, Clare grinned and snapped a photo. "You look so cute!"

"I try to be," he responded smugly, his insides flipping all over the place from her offhand comment.

"You have bedroom hair, Eli Goldsworthy," a voice mused.

Clare and Eli turned their heads so fast, there was a distinct cricking sound that came from them both. Standing with a thoughtful expression on her face, Imogen stroked the mannequin as if it was a cat. She had obviously been watching the two for a while now, and the thought unnerved Eli. The coincident was just too uncanny.

"Um, thanks," he merged his brows together, sharing a look with Clare.

"Hello to you, Clare Edwards," she said dreamily, caressing the plastic figure with more concentration now.

"Hi Imogen," she said, sounding unsure of herself.

"I found you a date- that is, if you are going to my birthday celebration," she informed Clare, grinning slyly at Eli. "Are you?"

"She is," Eli stepped in. "But I thought we agreed on going as friends and all."

"His name is Jake Martin," she continued as if Eli hadn't said anything. "He's a dashing young man, who's also a part-time carpenter. He's very good with his hands, if you know what I mean."

Clare gulped as Imogen winked at her.

"Imogen-"Eli began, praying she wasn't implying what his dirty mind thought she was implying.

"No Eli, it's her birthday," Clare said gently, smiling warmly at the unconventional girl. "If she wants dates, then we'll pair off."

"Thank you!" she cheered, grinning back at Clare. She threw her arms around her excitedly, patting her back in the strangest way. "I thank you for supporting my decision, and I hope you enjoy him very much!"

_Enjoy him very much_? Eli didn't like the idea of Clare spending time with a 'dashing young man'- he abhorred it, actually, and was beginning to feel irritated by Imogen's persistence. He could only hope that no chemistry would spark between them, and that Imogen wouldn't try anyone on him. She was quite delusional for a girl who seemed to be so well-read, and if he could, he would personally ask her if he could take Clare as his date. Only, he was too much of a wuss to take that next step, and was left with no choice but to sulk in silence.

"I shall give you his number, Clare Edwards, so you may call him sometime soon. I'd like all couples to be matching, you see." Imogen said, pulling a fat sharpie out of her pocket and unscrewing the lid. She glanced around for something to write on, but much to her great fortune, there was nothing available. "Give me your hand, Elijah."

"Eli," he corrected, lifting up his sleeve a bit. "And um, why me?"

"Because according to the gypsies, it is rude to poison a girl's skin with ink," she said plainly, as if it was common knowledge. Eli glowered at her forehead as she scribbled the digits down. He did not want Jake Martin's phone number on his arm. He didn't even want it on Clare's arm, for that matter. He rather not have Jake Martin's number anywhere near Clare or himself.

"That is all I must do," she said breezily, after holding Eli's arm steady with a vice-tight grip. Eli was sure there were fingernails marking permanently etched on his skin now. "Good-bye, fellow Degrassians, I will see you again soon."

"Bye Imogen," Clare called politely, waving to her as she left the store. She turned to Eli. "Well, I guess I'll have to call him right now."

"Need a hand?" he asked jokingly, outstretching his arm towards her.

Clare laughed, holding his hand so that his palm was faced upwards. As she dialed in the number, Eli tried not to hyperventilate from the physical contact between Clare and himself- the words _hand job _popped in his mind, and he chuckled pathetically.

"Hello? Hi, this is Clare. You must be Jake," she greeted kindly, continuing to hold his hand without thinking about it. "Yes, Imogen told me about you. Said you were a part-time carpenter-yes, I do. Green tie? Oh, it's no problem; I'm actually at the mall right now. Mhmm, okay. I'll see you then, bye!"

"Green tie?" Eli snorted.

"Equals green dress. Come on, Goldsworthy, are you ready for some hardcore dress shopping?" Clare winked, snapping her cell shut.

"Please," he rolled his eyes, eyeing the rack behind him with critical eyes. "I was born ready."

"I hope so," she said wistfully. "I kind of want to get this over with so we can go exploring later."

Eli's eyebrows shot up. "Exploring?"

Clare smiled impishly, tilting her head to the side. "It's just after noon, and we're in a mall. Where's your sense of adventure, Elijah? There are a millions of possibilities."


	16. Chapter 16

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><p><strong>Eli:<strong>

"Claaare," he whined. "Why can't I see how it looks on you?"

"You'll see in a few days, Eli. I think you'll live," she teased from behind the dressing room door. He let out a frustrated huff, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

"That's so far away," he complained.

"Did you bring my journal?"

"Um, I forgot," he lied roughly, glad she couldn't see the expression on his face. Yes, he was procrastinating, milking in what time he had left to read her beloved diary. He had grown attached to it, and reading it just before he went to bed had become a nightly ritual for him. He couldn't bear to part with it now, not when it had provided him with such an addicting sense of security. Reading her writing made him feel close to her when she wasn't around, and although it wasn't as great as actually being with her, it was adequate, and he'd settled for that.

The passage he had read last night had been particularly poignant- so much that he had memorized it word for word, as if his life depended on it. But there had been one verse that struck him in his heart's core:

_Fear puts you behind invisible prison bars._

Fear was a crazy thing that dominated human life and influenced decisions like weather on a day's attire. Fear gave you a reason to be anger, and nervous. It you weren't afraid to fall, you wouldn't feel nervous about trying. If you weren't scared of rejection, you wouldn't be angry if it happened. Fear correlated with just about anything you could think of, and the way Clare had describe it was absolutely flawless. The insightful analogy she used was just brilliant, perfect in every way, and he appreciated the depth of her thinking. If anything, Clare had matched him by intellectual means better than anyone he's ever known.

"Then I guess you'll just have to wait," she said pragmatically, flinging her jeans over the top of the change room door so that it was straddling it. "Don't fret; I'll be done soon. Then we can go have some real fun."

"_Fret_? Clare, you granny."

"All you do is sit around and mock my word choice, Goldworthy," she mumbled, tossing her shirt over. "Haven't you got anything better to do?"

"Tons. I'm just talking the time to ridicule you- now aren't you special?"

"Hey, if you need any help, just let me know okay?" A saleslady came by, knocking on Clare's door.

"Thank you, but I don't need any help here, I'm just changing!" Clare called awkwardly, causing a smirk to grow on Eli's face.

The saleslady frowned a bit, but nodded. "Don't hesitate to ask."

"That was smooth," he commented nonchalantly, smiling angelically in her direction.

"Just call me butter," she said jokingly. She was so awkward, it was so cute. "Ugh, back zippers are the worst."

"Little Clare-bear can't dress herself?" Eli teased. "You should have asked that lady to help you."

"_Or_… I can't ask the guy who's been complaining about having to wait the entire time when he himself had insisted on coming."

"Thought you didn't want me to see," he chuckled nervously, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket. _I hope she isn't joking I hope she isn't joking…_

"Just close your eyes. I really do want to see how this looks like, and besides. If you look, there's a mirror here so I'll know," Clare said practically, the sound of a lock snapping open overlapping her voice.

"Um, okay," Eli gulped, nearly tripping over his own feet as he walked over to her. With a forceful breath, he squeezed his eyes shut, vacillating over what to do with his hands. If he outstretched them, he risked scaring the crap out of Clare when she opened the door, possibly giving her the impression that he wanted to grope her or something. But if he folded them across his front, it'd look like he was waiting for a bus and that in itself was just plain weird. He resolutely clamped his arms to the side, clenching and unclenching his fists. He waited for the sound of the door opening, palms sweating profusely as he did. There was something about the act that was intimately nerve-wracking, something about guiding the zipper up that fueled him with jitters. Touching her bare skin was no guarantee, though he secretly hoped he would be given the opportunity to. _God, Eli, listen to yourself!_

"You look like I'm about to punish you or something," Clare giggled, gently wrapping her fingers around his wrist and placing it on a very general area of her back. His hand instinctively opened, and he stumbled around before finding the tiny metal zipper. Even through the light chiffon material, he could feel the heat radiating off her body and to his hand.

He didn't say anything, just focusing on gliding the zipper up. The journey seemed painfully short, and so when he reached the top, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

"There," he murmured, stepping backwards. His eyes were still shut tight, wanting to respect her wishes over his own preferences.

"Thanks," she said, sounding closer than he expected her to be. If wasn't until she felt something warm smuggled up against his hand that he realized it was still hovering, and with a crinkling eyebrows he was suddenly conscious of the fact that it was her face. He presumed that she had leaned against him to tease him, but was too caught up in the feel of her skin to do anything remotely joke-like. He felt the bridge of her nose along his middle finger, his thumb and pinky splayed over her cheekbones. Her lips were pressed gently against his palm, her breaths coming in shallowly and lightly. Her skin was so smooth, so soft, he wanted nothing more than to cup her face with both his hands. He yearned to explore her, ravish her and take her home with him to keep. And when he felt a heated blush crawl up her cheeks, he was on the edge of losing control completely.

"I feel like a kitty," she smiled, nudging him with her nose.

Eli's throat closed, and he was unable to form a coherent response- or a word, for that matter.

"I like this, I think I'll get it," she said thoughtfully, pulling away from him. "Don't you like it too, Eli?"

Gingerly taking his hand again, she positioned it on the skirt of her dress, letting it feel the fluttery fabric that cascaded down her legs in a very subtle, flattering matter. Eli ran his fingers down the length, already liking it from what he gathered. Then again, it was on Clare so his opinion was probably biased.

"I'll wait for you outside the store," he said huskily, smiling blindly at her. He turned on his heel and started to stride away, more desperate for air with every step he took.

They're friendship was navigating towards something more, no doubt about that, and he would try his damnest to make it happen. He liked his girl more than what his heart and his body could handle, and he wasn't going to let it slip away. He had decided it then: the chase had officially begun.

He sat on the wooden bench located nearby, mind flashing back to their dispute early on in the hearse. She was right, he knew. And now that he was devoted to making her his, he had to tell her everything he was hiding from her. Her journal, Julia, Drew … not necessarily in that order, though. Honesty was the best policy, and the sooner the better. He grinned lopsidedly at himself, running though all the clichés that played in his mind. He was seriously in deep- he wasn't even sure there had been a wading-pool level deep. It was like he dived head-first into the deep end.

"Let's play a game," Clare said, plopping down next to him. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement that Eli could help but reciprocate, a plastic bag hanging on her tiny wrist.

"Aren't we a little too old for that sort of thing?" Eli wagged his eyebrow teasingly, eyeing the time on his phone. "And what time do you have to be home?"

"Before it gets dark. Why?"

"Well, I don't want to be responsible for kidnapping you _and _breaking your curfew. I'd like to do one of them right, if you don't mind."

"That wouldn't exactly be kidnapping, now would it?" Clare pointed out, with her back as straight as it's always been. Eli pressed his lips together in a tight line, eliciting a sigh out of Clare. "Alright Captain Curfew, we'll say five if it makes you happy."

"Very," Eli smiled, relaxing around her. "So, this game of yours…"

"It's simple," she said, perking up again. She dug around her bag, pulling out scraps of paper and a couple of pens. "You think of five things in the mall you want me to find, and vice versa. No limits whatsoever."

"No limits eh?" Eli grinned impishly, his mind racing as the possibilities. Clare rolled her eyes.

"It had to be humanly possible."

"Aw, but that's no fun."

"You're no fun."

"Real mature Edwards," Eli tsked, shaking his head in mock disapproval as Clare lightly slapped his shoulder. She could have intended to make him hurt, and he wouldn't have known. "So what do I get when I win?"

"_When_?" Clare repeated with a scoff.

"Well?"

"Well, whatever you want I guess," she shrugged, brushing her curly bangs out of her face. Eli marvelled at the pale white expanse of her forehead, drinking it in insatiably- it was yet another part of her that he hadn't really gotten to seen, another part he imagined kissing. He imagined pressing his lips against the soft creamy skin, inhaling the sweet scent that belonged to her and her only. And seeing it now, he was so close, yet so far away.

He groaned internally. _No more fantasizing, Goldsworthy, you're just making yourself want her more. _It was an incessant fight he was battling, there was no doubt about it.

And he wanted to win it more than anything else.

**Clare: **

_A book by my favourite author_

_A bottle of chocolate sauce_

_A pack of mini marshmallows_

_Fake-tattoos_

_A near-replica of what I found under your bed_

"What the-Eli!" Clare almost shrieked after reading the last item on her list. But when she looked up, Eli was already sprinting away, not even bothering to look back. She narrowed her eyes and let out weary sigh, indeed wishing that she had created more limitations when she had the chance. There was certainly an air of humiliation that came with purchasing a pair of pink underwear in a lingerie store, and knowing Eli, he had it all planned out from the beginning.

But with great intentions of winning, she rushed off to her first destination, determinedly weaving through gaggles of children and adults as she did. His favourite author- easy. She didn't think twice before making a bee-line to the "P" shelf in the fiction section, knowing just as well that 'The Fight Club' would most likely already be in his possession. 'Invisible Monster' probably didn't have the plot line that would appeal to him, and' Lullaby' was a little too tame. Clare settled for 'Choke' after much deliberation, and hustled to the cash register to make up for all the time she squandered being indecisive. In all honestly, she didn't mind having to unpremeditatedly expend fifteen dollars on a book she could find in the library- not only because she's have easy access to it later through borrowing, but also because it felt nice doing something for Eli. For some reason, giving to him didn't feel like taking from herself.

The next stop was the grocery store, and there she found the next two items of her list without difficulty. She made a point to find a cheap pack of tattoos in the craft aisle as well.

And last but certainly not least…

"Welcome to Victoria Secret, just wanted to let you know that everything is thirty-percent off for this week only!" a saleslady chirped eagerly in her ear. Or course Clare appreciated salesladies, as they had helped her so much in the past.

Although, Eli probably made a better saleslady than anyone else…

"Lord have mercy," Clare groaned inwardly, sending a quick prayer before forcing herself through the most degrading, embarrassing store ever. Good grief, it was like something pink threw up all over the store. She missed the safe, comforting aura the book store had exuded, or even the practicality of the grocery store. As well, Clare had never felt more conspicuous in her life, being dressed like a nun in comparison to all the other teenage girls running around in skimpy clothing. Clearly, she did not belong.

She shambled to the back of the store, solely searching for something that was at least half as conservative as the one she had at home. She made the assumption that Eli didn't plan on keeping it, and wanted to make good use of the money she was spending. Besides- how would she ever explain to her mom why she was in possession of a lacy thong? Her trust in Clare's good judgement was already quite insulting. She didn't want to exacerbate situations by throwing a ridiculously scanty undergarment in the wash, having to be found by her mom later.

"Will that be all?" the cashier asked politely, carefully wrapping the product in delicate pink tissue paper before placing it in a paper bag. Clare puffed up her cheeks and nodded, gazing disapprovingly at the stunning model printed on the front of the bag.

Finally, her tasks were complete, and she hastened to dial Eli's number before fully exiting the store.

"No way."

She giggled lightly. "I'm finished, Eli. Where are you?"

He grumbled something unintelligible before responding, seemingly disgruntled by the turnout. "Stationary store upstairs. I can't believe- you did not just beat me."

"You can be in denial all you want, but it isn't going to change anything," Clare grinned, hoping onto the escalator. "I'm on my way up right now- I can't wait to see what you got."

"I don't- I see you, Clare! Look up!"

Her head snapped up, eyes immediately darting around as they sought a green-eyed boy clad in black clothing. Sure enough, he was there, waving with his entire arm in the air. She laughed at how silly, how childish he looked from the distance. The boy appeared so much more youthful without the prominent under eye circles that could easily be seen within a short distance, and the sight made Clare's heart melt.

She hung up her phone and skipped over to him, smiling timidly. "Hi."

"Hi," he said with equal shyness, gazing fondly at her.

"Let's go dump our stuff somewhere," she suggested, shuffling her feet.

"This was a great take on 'exploring', by the way," he chuckled, cocking his head to the direction he intended on going. Clare found her way to his side, following his slow strides.

"This was _very _adventurous," she insisted, attempting defiance but coming out as innocent and naïve.

"I'm sure the getting the last one was quite an adventure for you," Eli smiled angelically, jamming one of his hands in his pockets. Clare instantly noticed that the other hand, the one that was next to her, was left dangling. Her heart raced at the possibilities, nearly jumping off her chest. She was scared, scared of what the next step would be, scared of what this meant. But at the same time…what did she have to lose?

"To Morty?" she asked hesitantly, purposely skimming her hand with his. His eyes instantaneously flew to their hands, Adam's apple bobbling with obvious nervousness.

Then he did it.

The whole two seconds of waiting for him to do it was completely torturous, but she didn't want to initiate the first move. She needed to confirm that his feelings were reciprocated before diving in headfirst. It was the crucial line between being potentially rejected and staying safe. But when it happened, it was the most glorious feeling ever. The way her fingers fit perfectly within the spaces between his fingers sent a surreal electrical charge through her veins- it wasn't a spark, it was a flame that slowly intensified as he held her tighter. His hands were so warm, so beautiful wrapped around hers, and Clare wanted the walk to his car to be much, much farther way.

"Glad you're on a first-name basis with him now," he said softly, humming a familiar tune. Clare recognized it to be the same song she sang to him in the abandoned church, and felt a small smile light up her face.

"Yes, he and I are like this now," she said, crossing the fingers of her free hand and lifting it to his face. She let out a yelp as Eli playfully attempted to bit her, good-humouredly glowering at him in response.

"Should I be jealous?" he inquired, squeezing her tighter when the cold wind stabbed like daggers at their faces. Clare flinched away from the blowing snow, provoking an amused chuckle out of Eli. He chivalrously opened the passenger door for her as she stepped inside, only letting go of her hand after she settled in. The lack of warmth was suddenly palpable, and she longed to feel his skin against hers once again. The time had been too short to satisfy her insatiable desire.

"Didn't peg you for the jealous type, you know?" she teased, peering over at his bags. "Now, you first. What did you find?"

He shook his head and grinned goofily. "You first."

"Okay, I'll be the adult here," Clare said, proceeding to take the first four items out of her bag. Eli smirked. "Your book- Palahniuk, of course."

"So you _do _listen," he said, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. Smiling as he read the cover, he snatched the hard cover out of her hands. "'Choke', huh? I applaud you for your wonderful choice."

"The chocolate sauce and marshmallows," she continued, passing the products over to him.

"Maybe one day we can make smores, Edwards."

"The tattoos- although, I do question your selection here. Why the sudden need for body art?"

"Simple. We're getting matching make tattoos later. I'm underage, so…" he shrugged.

"Ahh."

"And the last thing?" he prodded eyeing the paper bag with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Clare sighed, roughly shoving the bag at him. "I can't believe you made me do this."

"You wouldn't let me keep the other one," he pouted, flinging the underwear around his index finger. He seemed to enjoy doing this very much, Clare noted.

"Well, you can keep this one if it makes you happy."

He smirked again.

"Okay, your turn," she said hastily, folding her arms across her chest. She watched with critical eyes as Eli shamefully spilled the contents onto his lap, scratching his head.

"Your list was so hard," he whined defensively, causing Clare to burst into titters. Like she had said before, the many secrets of Elijah Goldsworthy- he as the only person she knew that could pull off being sarcastic half the time, and childish the other.

"You got my notebook, though," she noted, picking it up from his lap. She smiled sadly at it, holding it against her chest. "I miss my old one," she added quietly.

"Oh…yeah I still have it," Eli said, averting his gaze. There was an uncomfortable silence that lasted at least a minute, of which consisted of Clare's silent passiveness and Eli's meditation. Clare wondered why it had taken him so long for him to return it, and originally didn't want to be persistent in pressing. She hadn't been too keen on coming off as the impatient person she wasn't. Maybe it was appropriate to label her as a pushover, as she had accepted all his excuses time and time again. But she couldn't handle it any more. There was a reason she had added a notebook to his list- not because she believe she was never getting hers back again, but to remind him that he still had it. And the fact that he seemed reluctant to return it worried her.

"You didn't lose it, did you?" she whispered, praying for a _no._

"No, I didn't," he said, sounding strained. This was not a good sign.

"Then why can't you give it back to me?" she asked gently.

Another silence enveloped them. It was beginning to unnerve her even more.

"Eli," she said, touching his hand.

"Clare I have something to tell you," he confessed, still not looking into her eyes.

"What is it?" Her stomach dropped to the ground at his words, and she was suddenly very afraid. Controlling her breathing had become a difficult task now, as the air around them started to close in. What could it be?

"Please don't get mad at me for telling you," he whispered, tearing his gaze away from the ground and into her deep blue eyes.

"Tell me please," she pleased, unable to take the suspense any longer.

"I…read your journal, Clare, and I didn't want to give it back to your because I wanted to finish reading it. It was selfish and a total invasion of privacy, and I'm so, so sorry. You're writing is just so engrossing, i-it's amazing. I know that's no excuse, but I'm still really sorry."

His words all came out in a jumble, but they came out nevertheless. At first, it didn't sink it- _Eli read me journal_? Impossible. Eli would never do such a thing.

But he did, and when it struck her, it struck her hard.

"You…knew all along?" she asked in an undertone.

"I-I did," he admitted, looking down at his feet again. "I'm sorry."

"How much?" she asked, rubbing her temples tiredly.

"Pardon me?"

"How much did you read?"

"…I'm almost done."

An agonizing heartbeat passed them by before Clare's brain connected with her feet. Before she knew it, she was out of Morty and starting her long walk towards the bus shelter, ignoring Eli's pleading halloos from behind her. Her face was completely clear of any emotion, but it was a false reflection of how she was truly feeling. Eli had lied to her, and had invaded her privacy when she had done the exact opposite. It wasn't until she pried it out of him that he finally told her, and he probably had intentions of finishing it before returning it to her. She expected to feel humiliated, or the least bit embarrassed of him finding out all her secrets, but instead she felt betrayal. Shock. The one person she thought she was falling for was a liar. Eli Goldsworthy was a liar.


	17. Chapter 17

**Guys, if you have any requests for the later chapters, I'd be more than happy to take them (under certain conditions, of course ) ! I need something/someone to bounce ideas off of anyway, so can I call any of you rubber or **

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><p><strong>Eli:<strong>

_I hate everything._

Dragging his feet against the pavement, he finally climbed into his car, slamming the keys into the ignition with sluggish extremities. The lone notebook tucked under his arm served as a painful reminder of why he felt so shitty, and he cursed. He cursed, wrote many distraught passages in his journal that looked to be more like incoherent venting, and cursed some more. And admittedly, he did in fact spend the past few days wallowing in his own self-pity, too afraid of screwing things up again with Clare. This time the ball was in his court, and he made no move to play it.

But he couldn't avoid it any longer now, given that he was grudgingly driving to his impending demise.

"Eli, my date!" Imogen waved him over, a bright smile lighting up on her face. Eli nodded and made his way over to the large booth, awkwardly shoving his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans as she took the liberty to introduce everyone to him. "So you know Adam, Fiona, Drew, and Jake….oh look, here comes Clare right now!"

Before he had a chance to give Jake a once-over, or glare daggers at Drew, the sound of bells heralded the arrival of another guest- as if in slow motion, Clare came walking in through the door. She seemed blissfully unaware of her audience, looking around the restaurant in a slightly dazed matter before Adam went rushing over to fetch her.

A lovely emerald-green dress draped her body elegantly, tightly fitting her torso and gracefully flaring out at her waist. Her arms were bare, and the plunging neckline, though comparatively modest to many dresses, displayed much more skin than anyone was used to seeing. Her flawless white skin gleamed beautifully even under the dim lighting, and her springy brown curls framed her face perfectly. Eli suddenly felt his mouth dry up, unable to keep from ogling at this reformed Clare.

"Clare is here!" Drew hooted, patting the seat next to him. "Now can we order?"

"Hi Imogen, this is for you," Clare said politely, offering her a carefully wrapped gift.

"Thank you, Clare Edwards!" she cheered, clutching the box to her chest. "You may take a seat next to Drew Torres. Elijah, please sit next to Fiona and I!"

Reluctantly, he slid inside, trying to scowl at the proximity between Drew and Clare.

"Hi Clare, I'm Jake," Jake grinned, leaning forward towards her. He was definitely a carpenter, Eli could tell, seeing his built exterior and relatively tall structure. His chiseled features and boyish good looks would win over any girl at first glance, and his winning smile would have anyone swooning over him. Anyone except Clare, who smiled shyly back at him like any old stranger.

"Hello Jake," she said softly, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear.

"Looks like we succeeded in matching," he chuckled, gesturing her body. She blushed and glanced down at her lap, and Eli narrowed his eyes. She couldn't possibly be smitten with him, could he?

"Waiter!" Adam raised his hand in an attempt to catch someone's attention. Few walked past them without sparing a single glance, and he frowned.

"WAITER!" Drew said loudly, throwing a bread bit at the first one he could find. The man gasped and jolted backwards in respond, eliciting a burst of guffaw from both Torres brothers and Jake Martin. Drew high-fived them both before clearing his throat. "We'd um, like to order."

"Yes! Fiona and I would like Caesar salad and your wonderful crab dish," Imogen bubbled enthusiastically, smiling happily at Fiona. She then turned to Eli, much closer than called for. "And what would you like, Elijah?"

"Whatever's fine," he mumbled, keeping his eyes on Clare, who seemed dead-set on avoiding him. She appeared to be too immersed in her conversation with Jake, listening to him speak with attentive eyes. "Clare?"

"We'd like lasagna and ice tea, please," Jake ordered on behalf of them both, irritating Eli even more. He had specifically asked _Clare_- perhaps all the drilling in the construction site had knocked one of his ear drums out.

Everyone seemed to fall into light conversation, and so Eli took this opportunity to make a move. Under the table, he nudged Clare's knees with her journal, arching his brow so that she'd know it was intentional. He sucked in a sharp breath as her clear crystal orbs met his murky green ones, letting his gaze travel downwards as she bit her lip, as if debating whether to give him a chance to explain. Eli begged her non-verbally, handing the book to her.

"Please," he mouthed, carefully watching her put it in her bag.

"Hey Clare," Adam said, shoving Drew so that he was out of his way. "What do you think about spending New Year's Eve with Drew and me?"

"I don't know," she said quietly, leaning backwards on the seat. "I'm not sure my mom would let me go out anywhere that late."

"But Clare-beeeeear!" Drew complained, pushing Adam's hand out of his way and regaining his blocking position in front of him. His face slipped into a pout, and with a roll of her eye, Clare stuffed a handful of bread crumbs in his mouth. As if that'd shut him up momentarily.

"I was thinking more of watching the fireworks in our backyard," Adam grimaced, jostling his brother again. "My mom can drive you home later if you'd like.

"Yeaf," Drew said, sounding muffled. Mashed up pieces of bread spilled out of his mouth and onto the table, much to Fiona's disgust.

"Eww! Manners, Torres!" she winced, tossing a napkin in his direction. "What will your girlfriend say when she sees you like this?"

_Girlfriend? Drew had a girlfriend? _Like fucker moves on fast.

"She's busy tonight," he shrugged, licking his lips when their food arrived. Eager to satisfy his voracious appetite, he began to wolf down his steak without waiting for every dish to be set out. Eli let out a disgusted sigh, despising the ravenous boy more and more as the night went on. He imagined he would have been practically seething under the presences of someone who had committed such a vile crime, someone who had permanently scarred him for life- but no. He was too concentrated on Clare, who she was interacting with, and what he could do to make it up to her. He'd make up hating time on Drew later, he promised himself.

"Okay, I can't wait any longer," Fiona announced, pushing aside her salad and wiping her mouth delicately. "Imogen, open your presents!"

"I'd like to make it clear that my gift probably sucks beforehand!" Adam said loudly, raising his hand again.

"…no Adam, I think _our _gift is perfectly fine."

"Don't even try butting into my gift, Drew," Adam glared, handing his small box to her Imogen.

"No, no, open mine first, Imogen!" Fiona insisted.

"I think…I want to open Eli's gift first," Imogen decided, turning towards him with an expectant smile on her face. Eli frowned in confusing, wondering why she had specifically wanted his first, but didn't think too much of it. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tiny, velvety box with a blue bow sitting on the lid. She didn't hesitate to rip the top open, flinging the lid into Jake's face with so much zeal, she could have single-handedly fuel even energy for all the lights in the restaurant.

"Happy birthday, Imo," he said half-heartedly.

"These earrings are wonderful! Thank you so much Elijah!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. Jake wolf-whistled at their intimacy, and Fiona just smiled- though, it did look rather forced. Eli tried to keep his face neutral as she planted a chaste kiss on his cheek, hoping this was all the title of being her 'date' compelled him to abide.

"Cece picked them out," Eli said, patting her back. The corner of his lips turned upwards, appreciating her appreciation for his gift- admittedly, it had been last minute, and he was grateful that his mother had been around to save the day.

"Okay, now open the gift from Adam and me!" Drew said.

"For the last time, it's not-"Drew clapped a large hand over his mouth, grinning widely at Imogen.

"Go ahead," he prompted her. She obeyed, seeming oblivious to the struggling Adam before her.

"A gift card to Starbucks! Thank you, Torres brothers!" she cheered, flinging the card up in the air.

"I think I've waited long enough to give you my gift," Fiona said impatiently, crossing her legs and arms.

"What is it, Fiona?" Imogen asked curiously, shaking the box next to her ear.

At this point, Eli zoned out, already feeling quite worn out from the night. His red tie was starting to suffocate his neck, and his feet were falling asleep under the table. He needed some air.

"I'll just leave you mine here," Clare said sweetly, smiling at her before standing up. "Excuse me; I need to use the restroom."

Perfect. "Uncanny coincident, Edwards. So do I."

"Oh…Clare Edwards, I'm afraid I cannot accept this gift of yours," Imogen said sadly. Eli realized that she had already got to opening Clare's present, and seemed to be very disappointed. He couldn't understand why, though- it was a simply, silver charm bracelet with a shiny clasp, a piece of jewellery that most girls would be delighted to be presented with.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Clare apologized, blushing in embarrassment. "You don't like it?"

"I already have one," she said brusquely, pushing the chain aside and moving on to Jake's gift bag.

"Washroom," Eli muttered, tilting his head to the side, urging Clare to follow him. Not wanting to stay after what had just happened, Clare had no choice but to trail behind him.

"Wait," he said, gently seizing her wrist. She spun around, stopping just shy of the girl's washroom.

"I have to go," she murmured, starting to leave again.

"Two minutes," he beseeched, searching her impassive eyes. "Please."

She glanced around, as if searching for some sort of escape. But she was cornered, and had no other choice. "Fine," she whispered. "Go ahead."

Eli drew a large breath. "It was wrong of me to read your journal, Clare. I had absolutely no excuse to, and I should have told you right from the very first day I realized it was yours. I know you're probably very disappointed at me, and I know you don't want have anything to do with me anymore, but I just want you to know that I would do anything to earn your trust again. I'm so sorry, and I promise you that I won't ever tell anyone what you wrote- to be honest, the thought didn't even cross my mind. The only reason why I kept reading is because….well, I feel like I can relate to you so much. When you talk about being distressed, or alone- I know what that's like, and I understand. I feel like I can connect with you, in a way that I didn't think was humanly possible. As well, you intrigue me, Clare. You're not cookie-cutter like everyone else. You're a mystery to me, and the one person I haven't quite figured out yet. I want to get to know you better, and I'm afraid that won't happen because of this stupid lack of judgement."

Clare's expression hadn't changed through his entire speech. She hadn't moved so much as an inch, and her breathing was as even as ever.

"How can I trust you again?" Clare whispered unsteadily, and not in the rhetorical way. The sound of her trust in him tearing slowly into shreds was reciprocated by Eli's heart, and at this point, he was all for getting down on his knees and begging if it meant getting Clare to give him another chance.

"I know you're mad, but I can-"

"I'm not mad, Eli," she said sadly. "I just feel betr- I'm just upset that you would do something like this."

Clare was sad, and it was _all his fault. _

"I'm so sorry, Clare," he said wholeheartedly, eyes drawn to her unfocused, crystal eyes. "I'd honestly do anything for another chance to prove myself to you. If there's anything I can do…"

She closed her eyes and inhaled shakily, her frightening quiescence giving Eli ample time to silently beg a God he didn't believe in for Clare's forgiveness. He couldn't stand the thought of being eschewed by her for any longer, certain that he would fall into a state of perpetual lugubriousness if this continued.

"Tell me why you don't like Drew," she said after what seemed like a lifetime if deliberation.

Eli froze. Again, she had proven to be completely unpredictable. But this time, he wasn't sure it was a good thing.

"I…"

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But he _had _to. He really wanted to make things work with her, but he was scared to try. Scared to find out what would happen if he did.

But if he wanted something he never had, he had to do something he never did. And even though it frightened the shit out of him to even think about the potentially devastating consequences, _he had to do it._

Eli, endeavouring to swallow a lump the size of Russia, managed to utter "New Year's Eve- I'll tell you on New Year's Eve."

Clare cocked her head to the side in confusion. "Why then?"

"A bit before the clock strikes midnight- I want the new year to be on a clean slate. I promise I'll tell you then, but I can't right now. It's not a good time to," he explained, eyes tightening and mind whirling in complete turmoil. His palms were clammy with cold sweat, and he wiped them anxiously on his pants.

"Okay," she nodded warily, looking as if she was going to leave at that. But then she pressed her lips together, contemplating another matter. "Pinky promise?"

An amused, rueful smile spread on Eli's face like butter as she stuck out her pinky. She still seemed particularly cautious about it, but it was good enough for him. In time, things will be okay again.

"Pinky promise." And with that he curled his pinky around hers.

* * *

><p><strong>Clare: <strong>

For the next few days, Clare and Eli's relationship hung precariously over the anticipation of December 31st – they remained civil and friendly with each other, of course, and texted back and forth here and there. But until Eli fully explained to her about his aversion of Drew, he would continue to walk on egg shells. She couldn't stand knowing that there was something he kept from her, something that involved to one of her very closest friends. And when their plans for the last day of 2011 solidified, she felt her nerves bounce off the walls. The date was fast-approaching, and whether she was ready or not was the question. She had been so anxious about that very date, that Christmas had passed her by in a flash. Could it already be the 29th? If she could remember, the first day she had met Eli was the 13th. It seemed much longer than that.

In regards to their New Year's plans- her mother would never allow her to spend the large portion of the evening in the house of some boy she hardly knew- bringing one over wasn't an option either, so she had no choice but to lie. Adam and Drew were in on it too. After spending hours mercilessly teasing Clare for murdering her label of being a saint, they agreed to cover for her if he mother called. The story: she would be at the Torres resident watching fireworks in the backyard (throwing in a Fiona there too, just to provide the comfort of knowing there was another girl with her) until twelve-thirty. At that time, her mother would pick her up, which meant that she had to rush over to their house at twelve-fifteen and act like she 'forget her math binder at their place'. Eli would drive her there, and her mother would drive her home- if the odds were in her favour, it would all turn out okay.

It was reckless, rebellious, and against everything she believed it. But at the same time, Clare had never been so determined.

Her phone buzzed again, and she answered it, expecting it to be Eli.

"Hey," she said breezily, flipping the page of her textbook. Her stomach was doing it again- you know, that thing where it feels like you've dropped in ten feet below the ground, only to have it fly back up to you again.

"Hey Clare, it's Jake."

Her stomach again, but this time in disappointment. She had been looking forward to hearing Eli's voice again. "Oh, hi Jake. How are you?"

"I'm great, you?"

"I've been good."

"Awesome. So um, I just called to see if you were busy tomorrow morning."

Clare glanced at her calendar. "I don't believe I am- what's tomorrow morning?"

"Well, funny story actually- I was talking to my dad last night, and I kind of brought your name up. I think he knows your mom from our church- Helen Edwards, right?"

The mention of her mom's name sent shivers crackling down her spine. Things were chilly between the two to say the very least, and Clare still hadn't brought herself to accept how her parents were handling the situation. She never made an effort to initiate any conversation with her anymore, and after many one-worded answers on her part, her mom had stopped trying as well. "That's right."

"We're organizing a bake sale to raise money for new bibles and supplies for the children ministry," Jake explained. "Interested in helping out?"

So that was it. The way Jake was talking to her seemed strictly professional, maybe a little friendly on the parental connection part, but nonchalant nevertheless. It was a relief to Clare, knowing that she didn't have to worry about sending the wrong signals. Jake was a nice guy, humorous and good-looking and all, but her feelings for him was platonic- nothing more, maybe something less. And especially after the supposed 'date' they had a while back, where they stood had been a little obscure.

"I'll have to run it by my mom first," she said with a small smile. "But I think it'll be okay. When, and what time will it be exactly?"

"First Sunday of the new year, and ten o'clock sharp- and if possible, you could bring a platter of cupcakes or something like that," he said.

"Alright, I'll let you know."

"Okay, bye Clare."

Cupcakes, cupcakes, cupcakes. She had plenty of time to scrape together the ingredients, throw on an apron, and create something remotely similar to baked-goods. But whether she was in the mood for scurrying around the kitchen instead of sitting around and waiting for Eli to text her again, was a different story.

Again, she shouldn't even be thinking this way. Eli read her journal, for crying out loud, and then lied about it after! She should be livid! But God, she was horrible at holding grudges, horrible at _being _angry in the first place, let alone _staying _that way. Clare was always too quick to forgive, to willing to push past the bad and look at the good.

But the fact that Eli was completely sincere in his apology wasn't debatable- the honesty in his eyes captivated every ounce of forgiveness she possessed, capturing it with altruistic intentions. Anyone with a heart wouldn't be able to deny that.

With a sigh, she sloppily flipped open her journal, hoping that any one of her previous entries would guide her in the right direction. She had written a multitude of quotes and lyrics in this, and so perhaps she would find one that would be actually useful.

Squinting at her uncharacteristically untidy print, a recent memory of her scribbling a famous bible verse in the middle of the night flashed in her head as she read the long passage:

"_Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."_

_It keeps no record of wrongs. _For God reprobated those who hardened their hearts against repentance, as true love was unconditionally merciful. Eli made an error, and feels great remorse for committing such an untruthful deed- humans were humans, and it wasn't the first time someone had slapped her in the face like this.

"I forgive you, Eli," she whispered to herself, envisioning all the feelings of betrayal being washed away from a blue sea of clemency.

* * *

><p>"Clare?"<p>

There was a flicker of confusion across his eyes before excitement overcame it in a whirlwind, and her heart fluttered eagerly at the idea of someone actually being thrilled to see her. Admittedly, though, this thought was only a mere fraction of why her heart felt the way it felt. Even dresses in sloppy sweat pants and hair –his hair, for hormone's sake- sticking out in every direction, he was more physically appealing than anything and anyone she's ever seen. _Don't swoon, don't fall apart now! _

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she reminded herself why she was here. It was like killing two birds with one stone- releasing someone who had merely made a human mistake of guilt, and helping out with the needy. _This is the right thing to do._

"Hello, chef," she grinned sweetly, lifting up the grocery bag that held all the contents needed to make a batch of cupcakes. "I hope you're not too busy today."

He smirked his signature smirk, eyeing at her trembling arms strenuously attempting to hold up the heavy bag before stepping backwards to let her in. "I suppose I can fit you in my schedule, considering you've already went through the trouble of coming here."

She gave him a grateful smile and gently placed the bag on the floor. She then leaned down to untie her boots. The knots were smaller than she would have preferred, and so it took her some time to find which end goes through which loop. Her tiny fingers fumbled to get a good grip on the thin material, struggling to release the tight bondage between the two strings. Frowning and letting out an exasperated sigh, she leaned down further and tugged impatiently at the aglets, face reddening immensely at the effort.

"Come on, undo!" she mumbled irritably, pulling and pulling to no avail.

"Um, Clare," Eli said, sounding extremely amused and on the verge of laughter. "Maybe you should sit down and do that. Not that I'm complaining about the view but…"

She peeked at him, and realized with a jolt that her bum had been facing him the whole time. With an embarrassed squeak, she shot back up, stumbling over a pair of shoes that had been placed neatly by the door. "Sorry I- I'm just gonna…"

Clare tripped over to the couch, accompanied by a loud roar of laughter the entire journey there.

"Aw, Clare, let me give you a hand," he said teasingly, kneeling at her feet. She rolled her eyes and leaned back, purposely kicking her foot so that it'd narrowly avoid the side of his head. He bounded to the side with wide eyes, eliciting a giggle from Clare. "Funny, Edwards. I'm going to pass that off as involuntary muscle spasm because I'm in a good mood. But be it another day-"

"Why are you in a good mood?" she inquired curiously, tilting her head to the side.

"Oh…this and that," he answered evasively, smiling angelically.

"This?"

"And that," he said, successfully unknotting her shoelace. "Ta-dah!"

"It's the Sharpied-nails," Clare said defiantly, withdrawing her leg and sticking out her other one. "If I coloured my nails like that-"

"You'd be quick to realize that not everyone can pull it off," he finished smugly, undoing the knot of her second boot. "There."

Before Clare could think it through, her legs clamped impulsively, holding Eli's torso between them. "A day without being smug, Goldsworthy- is that a lot to ask for?"

Eli seemed momentarily stunned by her daring move.

She smiled in triumph. "Thank you," she sang in a clear voice, releasing the pressure she put against him. Kicking off her shoes and intending to place them neatly by the door, she stood up and reached over him. But before her fingers made contact, she was suddenly yanked forward, legs still wide open.

"Don't think I'd let that one go, did you?"He cocked his head, hands encircling both her calves and pulling her towards him. Clare let out a short yelp, hands flying out to hold the ground. He adjusted himself so that he was sitting cross-legged between her legs, but kept his fingers firmly wrapped around her legs.

"Eli," she gasped, trying to slide away. But he wasn't having any of it.  
>"Clare," he imitated, pulling her closer. A mischievous smile was stamped on his face, making it clear that he knew that the proximity was affecting her speech. Her heart was embarrassingly loud, and her face was redder and hotter than molten lava at its finest.<p>

It was like he kicked off the eggshells and rollerbladed full-speed to her heart.

There was a strange yearning sensation stirring between her legs, and she found it difficult to resist clamping them together again, hoping to relieve some of the tension that was quickly building up. But no, she couldn't let Eli win again, and if she wanted to compete with him, she'd have to throw all caution out the window and channel every bit of boldness and adventurousness she possessed. Old Clare wouldn't even be in such a situation. New Clare found herself slowly evolving, and had to constantly challenge herself to keep the transformation from deterring.

Gazing up at him with a smirk on her face, she twisted around his grip, swiftly adjusting so that she was sitting on his lap. "Well Santa, you're a little late this year, but I'd never pass up another opportunity to tell you what I want."

From the side of her cheek, she could feel his warm, uneven breathing lightly brushing her skin. His heart was going berserk as well. "Whoa," he chuckled, hesitantly keeping his arms on his knees. He seemed to be at a loss for words.

"I actually came here to ask you for your help," Clare said bringing her knees up to her chest. "I'm baking cupcakes for a fundraiser at my church, and since you're such an expert at baking fine goods, I was wondering if you'd give me a hand."

"Your church," he murmured, as if pondering the thought. "I'm honoured."

"Does this mean you'll help?" she asked nervously, turning around so that she was facing him. His eyes were thoughtful and calculating, lips screwed to the side of his face. He looked so cute like that.

"Clare, you're sitting on my lap right now," Eli pointed out, another chuckle rumbling in his throat. "It's kind of hard to say no."


	18. Chapter 18

**Four more episodes of season 11 ! And what, two more until eclare interaction? Does anyone know what the third plot is for Hollaback Girl, by any chance?**

**90 reviews= update !**

**Enjoy! (:**

* * *

><p><strong>Eli: <strong>

"Wow," Clare says reverently as Eli cracks two eggs simultaneously. His pent-up pride is practically exploding from Clare's praise, and the smug smile he fought to repress was clearly stamped on his face. He felt so giddy inside, it was ridiculous; but what could you expect? The girl he had a mad crush on was in his house, asking specifically for a favour that involved him. The world was a wonderful, magical place at the moment and nothing could ever ruin his happy mood.

"Oh, you like that huh?" he winked at her, and she giggled.

"Can I beat?"

"I don't know Clare, _can you_?" He smirked.

"Oh, excuse me, Eli, _may I_?" She rolled her eyes playfully, rolling up the sleeves of her knit sweater. It was a light caramel colour and it distorted her body shape into something boxy, but it had felt marvellously soft against Eli's skin. Her dark leggings were made of cotton and frame the shaped of her legs in a way that almost made up for the saggy sweater. Everything Clare wore was so soft and inviting, it made it even harder for Eli to resist touching her. He concentrated on the cute, floral headband perched at the top of her head, and settled for diverting his focus towards her lovely, springy curls. Her tendrils resembled satin, and they smelled like coconut and tropical fruits.

"Depends," Eli said. "Do you know how?"

"Oh Eli, please grace me with the opportunity to learn how," Clare said. Her sarcasm was so cute. She could never pull of the dry, bitter type.

"It's all in the wrist," he said sagely, whirling the fork around the egg yolk. "Now you try."

Trying to copy what Eli had done, her beating had looked quite sloppy in comparison. She couldn't get that circular motion down if her life depended on it.

"Here, let me-"his words were cut off by Clare's elbow, which had accidently nudged him in the ribs. Now, without any normal person, the contact would have left a temporary pang of pain. A bruise would be exaggerating it. But for Eli, who already had plenty of bruises to go around, the impact was enough to know the breath of out him. Before he knew it, he was backed up against the sink, clutching his stomach with labored puffs of air. He winced at how sharp the pain was in that region, and tears began to collect in his eyes.

"Oh, sorry! Are you okay?" Clare apologized hastily, arms extended.

"Don't-touch-anything," he snapped, trying to hold himself together. Clare shrank back at the level of acid in the tone, but did as he said.

A nice reminder of what he was doing tonight.

"Do you need anything?" she asked cautiously, eyeing the freezer.

"I'm fine," he panted, holding onto the kitchen counter with a death grip. Sweat was collecting at his temples as he waited for the pain to subside. "I think I'm good now."

"Did I really hit you that hard?" she asked softly.

"It's nothing, Clare," he said curtly, reaching for the metal fork. He resumed his beating.

"It didn't look like nothing," she said persistently, sounding as soft and gentle as ever.

"Just a tender spot," he said through gritted teeth. Why couldn't she just let it go?

"Eli," she said in a way that played with his heart. Her face expressed nothing but genuine concern and care, just as it did in the parking lot so many weeks ago, and it made it almost impossible to resent. He stiffened, but continued his egg-beating nonetheless. "Don't try to downplay the pain."

"I don't think a scarf can fix this, Clare," he rolled his eyes cynically.

She pursed her lips to the side, as if contemplating his words. "No," she agreed, grabbing a dishtowel from the stove and running got water over it. Through the corner of his eye, he watched her, the never dying spark of interest igniting inside him again. She made sure to drench the entire cloth with scalding-hot water before turning off the tap and wrenching it dry. "But this might."

For a girl so timid, so saintly, and so reticent, Clare seemed to always be doing things no one else would have the guts to do. She was obstinate and bold, he's give her that.

After folding the dish cloth once, she reached over and lifting Eli's shirt, placing the hot, damp material across the front of his torso. Why his arms couldn't react fast enough to push her away, he didn't know, but after it had been done, it wouldn't be an option anymore. Subsequent to the initial, unpleasant slab of white-hot, scorching physical sensation, the heat actually felt quite soothing. He let out a groan to the relief it provided him with, and an accidental moan when Clare's hand had wandered far south to adjust the placement of the cloth. Thank God she couldn't differentiate between a moan of pleasure and a groan of relief. He couldn't decide which was better, though- the feel of the hot fabric against his skin, or the feel of her warm tiny fingers with fingers splayed out to hold the cloth to body. Either way, he had been in utmost bliss.

"Better?" Clare asked.

"Yes," he admitted, letting out a sigh.

A minute ticked by before Clare took it off and slung it over the stove railing. She looked expectantly at him, smiling kindly at him.

Even after he had snapped at her, she was still being nice to him.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"So, can I try the beating again?"

A lopsided smile tugged on his lips.

As Clare busied herself in stirring the entire mixture, Eli's hand was suddenly hovering over her. And before he could stop himself, his fingers were twirling a few strands of her hair, basking themselves in the quirky, yet pleasing sensation of playing with it.

A small chuckle escaped her lips, but she resumed her mixing nonetheless.

"I think the batter is done. How long should we bake them for?" she hummed, shoulders hunching as his fingers tickled her neck. Eli raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile creeping up his face.

"Are you ticklish, Clare?" he asked innocently, brushing his index finger along the back of her neck. She shivered and recoiled, swatting away his hand.

"No," she said unconvincingly, freezing in realization.

Her fingers ghosted down her back, and she wiggled again. "You don't sound very convincing," he whispered.

It had taken them more than an hour to finish putting in all the ingredients- even after the slight incident, the two began to fall back into the same pattern- half flirting, half being friendship, and a whole lot of mixed signals. It was ridiculous how easy they were together.

And without warning, Eli's hands sprung out and attacked her sides, his tongue jutting out slightly in amusement. Clare let out a squeal, and immediately made a beeline for the living room. Somewhere she could escape Eli's wiggling, taunting fingers.

"Eli, stop it!" she gasped through frantic giggles.

"Not until I catch you Edwards," he called resolutely. He chased her around the coffee table, his heart emulating a persussionate. The adrenaline, the thrill, and the sheer bliss all blended together to create something incredible- something he hasn't felt in a very long time.

Her face was flushing from the exertion, and as she ran straight to the wall, Eli couldn't help but laugh. Hard. Seeing her back up into a wall with nowhere to run, he laughed until his sides were aching and aching, but didn't stop until his hands were firmly wrapped around Clare's waist. As careless and childish as two six year olds, they wrestled with each other. Blocking, knocking, and swatting until Clare finally couldn't must enough strength to resist him, Eli hoisted her up in the air, swinging her around like a Hollywood movie.

"Caught you," he declared haughtily, breath ragged and short.

"No, caught _you_!" she grinned childishly, throwing herself into him. Her arms encircling his neck as she came onto him with such force, he was nearly knocked backwards on to the ground.

"Clare!" he exclaimed, clumsily stumbling to catch his footing. She pulled back again, grinning triumphantly.

"You little devil," he murmured, smiling his lopsided, devious smile at her.

"That's me," Clare wheezed with an exhilarated grin, slumping against Eli's arms. She was all giggled-out. "The devil."

"Tuckered out already, Clare?" he whispered, gazing back at her innocent doe-like eyes with memorisation. The room suddenly fell silent, but was anything but vacant. The only sounds were their hearts beating in perfect cadence, nearly pressed up against each other as Eli held her to him. Their lips were close. Their scents mingled. Their faces were already tilted into a decided direction, and Eli's half-lidded eyes were prepared to close when the full impact came. He could almost taste her lips.

But she retreated.

At first, it didn't sink it. One minute they were preparing for what would have been the most epic kiss in the history of kisses, and the next, Clare was already on her feet, a respectable distance from him. And the wave of rejection didn't spare him, no. It hit him harder than a thousand kilogram boulder falling on a cemented ground, harder than a train crashing full-speed into a brick wall. It happened so fast, he couldn't really process the sting.

"New Year's," she reminded him softly, trying to let him down gently.

Eli didn't say anything. He couldn't even feel his face. What the hell just happened?

"Eli, it's not that- that I don't want to" Clare stumbled out, desperate not to crush the stand-still boy in front of her, whose ears pricked up at her words. "It's just, I can't-"

He still didn't say anything.

"I mean, it's not a rejection or anything," she continued hastily, looking more flustered than before. "And I'm not implying- I'm not saying that I want to- it's just that it's not a good time and-I have to trust-"

"I like you Clare," Eli blurted.

Clare's mouth was slightly ajar, eyes widening double its original size.

He had admittedly planned on going about this a little smoother, perhaps a little more eloquently and with a nice explanation as to what exactly this meant.

"W-what?" she faltered, as if this was the most surprising news in the world.

He closed his eyes and steadied himself, organising his thoughts before he opened his mouth. It was now or never.

"Clare, I know it's hard for you to trust me when you know I'm keeping a secret from, so I understand your hesitation," he said slowly, gingerly. This was so hard. Why couldn't it be as simple as boy likes girl, the only hesitation is whether the girl feels the same way? Surely, that was something to be wary about, but there was also a lot more to it- what if, boy just happened to be incorrigibly broken and deranged at the same time? What if, despite the flawless chemistry they had together, they were destined to be nothing more than a toxic pairing? What if having a dead girlfriend he still lamented over scared her sheltered little soul, distorting her image of him? And if that wasn't enough, would digging up graveyards almost every night send her running for the hills? Something as illicit as that would surely freak her out o the state of having a conniption. And who could forget his aversion to one of her close friends, due to the fact he had killed his dead girlfriend? Yep, better throw that in there too.

And even if for some bizarre reason, she accepted all of his baggage, there was still the fact that he wasn't good enough for her. He couldn't see her parents being all gung-ho on letting their perfect little Christian daughter date a sinful Atheist. He shouldn't be even here, leading her on out of selfish motives…but what if...?

"I promised I would tell you everything by the end of 2011, and I fully intend on keeping that promise," he said after what seemed like a long time. "But it'd be fair of me to say, that you can walk away at any time. I-I'm not who you think I am, Clare. I'm not perfect."

"Nobody's perfect, Eli," she reassured quietly. The closeness was still there, something that should have given a glimmer of hope. But he knew, he wouldn't be satisfied until he got an answer."

"Before everything I tell you screws this up," he joked bleakly, meeting her concerned eyes, "can I ask you something?" Even if things don't turn out the way he hoped it to, he'd like to know that it had been there in the beginning.

She waited.

"Is it possible… that you could like me?"

"I wouldn't be here if I hated you, now could I?"A hint of a smile tugged on her lips. She was going to make him beg for it.

"I meant, like me in the _good _way," he clarified, shifting embarrassedly. It was official. Clare Edwards would ruin his impassive Gothic reputation with every blush she put on his face.

"Oh, Eli," she shook her head, taking his hand. Her tiny fingers fit perfectly between his, and Eli was suddenly torn. He wanted to look at their intertwined hands, but he also wanted to stare at her face- _oh my God, life decision this is torture. Can someone just give me another pair of eyes or_

"Clare," he imitated again, unable to smirk. He was too focused on waiting for her answer.

"You're so silly, of course I like you," she flustered, smiling nervously at him. "In that 'good' way, I do."

His insides soared into the air, summer salting and back-flipping and doing everything he couldn't imagine his stomach doing in a million years. An incessant stream of _YEESSSSSSSSSSSSS _went through his head, followed by the chorus of _Hallelujah _singing beautifully by a choir of angels. He could die, and he'd be perfectly content.

Expect maybe...

"And if you decide to stick with me after I tell you everything, is there a chance that we'll um, be together?" Smooth, Goldsworthy.

"Do you…want to be?" Clare queried shyly. The two looked up at each other, grinning like nervous, love-struck beings.

"Absolutely," they said in unison, broadening both their grins.

"Can I ask you another question then?" he asked, cocking is head to the side. Clare mimicked him, looking as he felt- elated, beyond euphoric, and as giddy as a two year old high on sugar. "If you like me all along, why didn't you kiss me?"

She glanced at her feet, and mumbled something that he couldn't quite catch.

"Pardon me?"

"I've never kissed anyone before," she said hastily, bowing her head even lower. She was obviously embarrassed by her inexperience, and this made Eli burst into laughter.

"That's it?" he said, taking her other hand. He squeezed it reassuringly.

"I might be bad at it," she admitted sheepishly. "And I don't want to mess it up or anything- it just seems like you're so much more experienced! I don't want to disappoint you or anything!"

"I seriously doubt that's possible," he chuckled, leaning forward again. Their hands were entwined before them as opposed to around one another, which was something Eli had never done before. It was so tame, so innocent, and yet, he had never felt more than he did at that moment.

Until.

"Baby boy we're home! Did you miss us?" Cece came bursting through the door, Bullfrog at her tail.

"Damn it," he growled under this breath and Clare scrambled away. She smiled timidly at his parents all while straightening out her sweater.

"Hi," she said softly, waving politely at them.

Concurrently, Cece and Bullfrog turned slowly to look at each other. And just as slowly, they turned to face both Clare and himself.

"Guys, this is Clare," he introduced grudgingly.

"CLAARE!" Cece gushed, dropping all her grocery bags on Bullfrog's foot before rushing over. She didn't hesitate to throw her arms around her, and rubbed her back eagerly as Clare attempted to breathe. Her vice- tight grip was squeezing the life out of the poor little girl.

"Mom, you're hurting her," Eli complained, looking to his dad for help. Bullfrog just stared at with Clare with awe.

"Oh shut up baby boy, explain to me why you took so long to bring this girl home," Cece admonished blissfully, beaming at Clare. "Eli's told us so much about you, honey."

"Good things, I hope," Clare smiled, tilting her head towards Eli.

"Oh Clare, Eli's been smitten with you for a long time now," she waved her hand dismissively.

"And why is this the first time I'm hearing of this," Bullfrog boomed, feigning anger, He walked over to nudge Eli in the ribs, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Guys," Eli groaned, scratching his head.

"Please stay for dinner, Clare," Cece pleaded, beseeching Clare with her puppy-dog eyes. "Bullfrog and I would really like to get to know you!"

"Umm." Clare turned to Eli, who was busying smacking himself in the forehead. "I'd have to call my mom first."'

"Yay!" Cece cheered, throwing her arms up in the air. "Oh Clare, I can't tell you how excited I am to be finally meeting you! Now, I've told his to Eli, but I've been shipping you two for a long time, and…"

"Dad," Eli groaned again, as Cece ushered Clare to the couches.

"Hey, give your mom a break, boy. It's been a while since she's got to do this," he said defiantly.

"..I mean there was this other girl Fiona Eli knew, but I thought they were a total crack ship, if you know what I'm saying. None of that endgame quality you two have."

Eli glared at this father.

"Your mom," he shrugged, raising his palms up in defense. "You know how she's like. Besides-"He suddenly stopped and sniffed, looking slightly confounded. "Eli, what's that smell?"

"The cupcakes!" Eli's eyes widened in a realization. "Clare!"

"Is something burning?" Cece queried with a wrinkled nose.

"Not again," Clare moaned, hurrying to the kitchen at Eli's heels.


	19. Chapter 19

**Clare: **

It was six o'clock, and Clare was furiously brushing through her errant bangs all while trying to stuff her foot in a sock. She told the Goldsworthys she would be at their house for dinner at six fifteen- dinner would start promptly after six thirty. Why she had taken so long to get ready was a mystery.

Now, Clare was not the type to spend hour and after hour peering at a bathroom mirror, perfecting the angle of which her eyeliner curved at or the placement of her dangling necklace. She was pretty low-maintenance when it got down to it. But the fact that her nerves were bouncing off the walls and her imagination was following suite slowed things down considerably. As well, her mother was also watching her like a hawk.

"Mom, I think it's time to go," she breathed heavily, jamming a thin, black headband on top of her head. It was elegant and simple, and went perfectly with the flowy, royal-blue blouse and stovepipe jeans she decided to wear- Eli had said that dinner would be pretty casual. Her sleeves fluttered out gracefully over her pale shoulders, and she opted to cover up with a creamy knit cardigan to make up for the thin fabric underneath.

"You seemed a bit flustered," her mom noted, unlocking her car doors. "What's on the agenda for tonight?"

"Nothing special," Clare lied quietly, turning up the heat. "We just want to watch the fireworks together, that's all."

"Remember to call me when you're done- and I may check in on you sometime in the night," she reminded sternly.

"I don't think that's necessary," Clare sighed wearily. Her mother shot her a look."But I don't see how that's a problem."

"And no drinking," she continued relentlessly. "A sip or two is fine, but I don't want you coming home completely hung-over. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, mom. I don't plan on drinking anyway."

"Still, I want you to be extra careful tonight Clare-bear."

Her mother's heedful words were laid extra thick tonight, and though they were a bit redundant, she wouldn't push it- she was grateful she was given permission to even go, and a last-minute change of mind was the last thing she wanted to happen.

"It's this house," Clare pointed out, pressing her nose against the frosty window. "You can drop me off here."

"Do you need me to come in with you?" she offered willingly, squinting at the Torres' residence. "I don't mind, I-"

"It's fine, mom, I'll call you later."

She looked fearful for a minute, but nodded anyway. "Okay, bye Clare. Be safe!" She warned for the umpteenth time.

"Bye mom."

Up the threshold she hopped, and from there she was face with a dilemma- to ring the doorbell or to text? Her mother was waiting in the driveway, probably expecting her to ring the doorbell. If she whipped out her cell phone, she would be suspicious as to why she couldn't herald her arrival the traditional way. But if she did, she would be capturing Audra's attention, who would in turn expect her to stay the remainder of the night. Oh, decisions, decisions. Clare raised her fist hesitantly. _Maybe if I knocked softly-_

"Clare," Adam greeted quietly, poking his head through from inside. He waved at Clare's mom, who very slowly and deliberately, backed out and began to drive away. "My mom's actually out to pick up some groceries. Want to come in?"

"Thanks," she said, already beginning to text Eli with her cold, nimble fingers. "And thanks for agreeing to this."

At the same moment, Drew came lumbering downstairs with a bowl of popcorn in his hand. "You should know, though, that we expect full details by tomorrow Clare-bear."

"Did you just come from upstairs?"Clare asked with a furrowed brow. "Wh-where did you get that bowl of popcorn?"

"Oh please," Adam rolled his eyes. "Have you seen his room? That's probably been in his room for months."

"So?" Drew yelped to his defense, grabbing a handful and shoving it in his mouth.

"So that popcorn's probably has more hair than you do," Adam said.

Drew glared at his brother before turning his attention to Clare. "So Clare, you and Eli planning to bang it out tonight?"

"Drew!"

"What?" he asked, unabashed. "It's an honest question. And for the record, I totally ship you guys."

"What the hell man?" Adam threw his furry popcorn at him, looking irked. "You can't keep jumping ships like that."

"We are _not _doing anything tonight," Clare blushed, averting her gaze.

"Oh Adam, but I can," Drew wiggled his eyebrows towards Clare. "I think you and Eli would make a lovely couple. Better than Fiona and that guy over there."

"And officially demoted to 'that guy over there'," Adam harrumphed. "Tough night tonight."

Just then, something dark came pulling up the driveway, dim headlights glaring at the front of the house. It was, unmistakably, Eli and his hearse.

"I think that's him," Clare said nervously, standing frozen in front of the door, as if she was debating whether to go or not.

"Then what are you waiting for?"Drew asked, practically shoving her forward. "Go! And make sure something juicy happens so you have something to report to us later."

Taking a breath to steady herself, Clare willed her feet to more her to the passenger side of the car. This was it. Tonight, she would find out what the 'big secret' is.

"Hi," she greeted him timidly.

"Hi," he reciprocated with equal shyness.

She shifted uncomfortably. "Hi," she said again.

He laughed, and it sounded light and superficial. His pallid skin looked particularly luminous under the brilliant full moon, and his green eyes looked darker in the night. Through her peripheral vision, she could make out his perfectly chiselled features- from the height of his prominent cheekbones, to the curve of the bridge of his nose, he was like a living God. True, her opinion must have been mudded by her deep-set affection for him, but even from a strictly platonic point of view, Eli _was _quite dashing in himself. She suddenly slumped further in her seat, feeling self-conscious. How is it that a boy like Eli could ever like a girl like her?

"My parents are thrilled you're coming over tonight," Eli said, focused completely on the road. "They're crazy about you."

"I really like them. They're quite the lively pair, don't you think?"

"Oh, they're loads of fun," Eli mumbled sarcastically. "Which reminds you, I have to apologize in advance for their eccentric behaviour tonight."

"Don't worry about it," Clare waved her hand dismissively. "They're a lot more fun than my folks, I can tell you that."

"Speaking of which…how are you and your mom, anyway?"

Clare stiffened. On normal circumstances, she would have breezily dismissed the question with a vague, nonchalant answer. Anything to avoid the situation that went from her most fearful nightmare to the painful reality that was her life.

But the inflection in Eli's voice didn't make it seem like he was prying, or just curious. He seemed genuinely concerned. Besides- he had been there the night her mom had came into her room, just a few hours after her fight with Clare's dad. No doubt there'd be some suspicion brewing in Eli's pot.

"Tense," Clare finally answered, fiddling with her seatbelt.

Eli nodded sympathetically. "But you must have seen it coming for a while, haven't you?"

He read the situation like a book, and this saved her a whole lot of explaining.

"I did, it's just…I didn't think it would really happen." Her voice broke, and she tried desperately to clear it. Turning away so that she wouldn't have to face Eli, she continued. "All my life, I've been taught that marriage was good, and divorce was a sin. And now that they're…getting a divorce, everything I've grown up to believe just seems…"

"Fake?" Eli supplied.

She nodded. "Fake. And now that Jake expects me to help him out the with the bake sale on Sunday at the church, I don't know how I'm going to deal."

There was a long pause of silence. This was a frequent exchange between the two, and usually they were comfortable. Right now was a different story. The air was thick with tautness, clogged up with the gravity of Clare's state of affairs. Eli, having been raised in a non-religious household with loving, inseparable parents would not be able to relate to her, and so the pity ensued. Clare couldn't bring herself to meet his impenetrable gaze, and carried on with her window-staring. The feelings of grief and sorrow were slowly creeping on her again, the greyness clouding over into a tangible mist beneath her chest. It was starting again, and because she was opening up to someone for the first time, she felt more vulnerable than ever. As if she needed another reminder for why she didn't deserve Eli- she was too broken, and he, though maybe broken as well, couldn't afford to be with someone who was unable to patch him up.

Oh, she was making things harder on herself now.

"I could…always go with you," he offered, pulling the car to a stop.

Clare just opened the door, waiting for Eli to lead her up the porch steps.

"What, does your church eat Atheists or something?" he joked, sensing her hesitation.

"You'd do that?" she murmured incredulously, trying to imagine a Gothic Eli standing in the foyer of her church. Better yet, she imagined him sitting on one of the pews in the sanctuary.

"The list of things I wouldn't do is very short, Clare." He gave her a crooked grin before unlocking the door, swinging it open and gesturing her to walk in. "Mom! Dad! I'm-"

"CLAAAARE!" Cece exclaimed, rushing over to usher her inside. "You're just in time! Dinner is already set on the table!"

"Hello Mrs. Goldsworthy," Clare smiled with authentic sweetness. "Sorry I'm a little late."

"Call me Cece, dear," she grinned. "And don't be silly, you're right on time. Eli, call Bullfrog, would you?"

"BULLFROOOOOG!" Eli screamed.

"Not like that," Cece snapped. "I meant, go upstairs and get him."

"But I don't want to," Eli whined, taking Clare's coat. She flushed furiously at his kind gesture, and he smirked at her blush.

"You lazy bum," Cece scolded, shaking her head. "Go set up the table."

After several minutes of bustling around, some gleeful commentary and snarky remarks on Eli's part, everyone finally settled down to eat. Out of habit, Clare bowed her head to give thanks for her meal, closing her eyes as she did. When she finished, she found Eli gazing at her with an amused expression on his face.

"You're so cute when you close your eyes," he said, sounding bemused.

Her heartbeat picked up again. "And you're even cuter when I close my eyes."

Cece and Bullfrog burst into guffaws, giving Clare a congratulatory pat on her back.

"Oh Eli, she's definitely a keeper," Bullfrog hooted happily. "Clarabelle, I hope you stick around and continue to whoop his snarky ass into the corner."

Clare smiled as Eli narrowed his eyes at his father, but was rather confused. She couldn't figure out why his parents had taken a liking in her so quickly, so easily. They had just met her a few days ago.

Uneasily, she swallowed, feeling uncomfortable.

"So, what are you kids planning on doing this evening?" Cece asked nonchalantly.

"Nothing too spectacular," Eli shrugged.

"I don't think I've ever really done anything for the New Years before," Clare murmured, twirling strands of spaghetti onto her fork.

"Really now? No pressure, huh boy?" Bullfrog grinned, nudging Eli.

Clare shifted apprehensively again.

"Dad," Eli muttered.

"What's your favourite drink, Clare?" Cece inquired pryingly.

"Umm, drink?" Clare blinked confusedly. "Ice tea, I guess."

Bullfrog let out a chortle, his mouth full of food. His laughter soon turned into a hacking cough, and Cece had to smack his back to prevent him from choking. Clare took the initiative to pour him a glass of water, shyly pushing it towards him.

"Thanks Clarabelle, "he croaked, chugging down the liquid.

"He meant your favourite alcoholic beverage, dear," Cece frowned at her husband, whose eyes were watering. "Like vodka, or tequila."

"I don't- I don't drink," she whispered, as the discomfort reached its all-time peak for the night. Eli's parents, though lighthearted in manner and not deliberately trying to make her feel agitated, were a bit too pushy. How quickly the tension in the air had arrived, how strange it was that only she and Eli seemed to feel it. His parents were blissfully aware of how uneasy they had made their guest feel, and whether that would change or not wasn't even a question.

"I'm got a cabinet full of liquor in the basement now, but need I remind you that you two _are _under-age," Bullfrog warned in a teasing manner.

"Now you can't say we didn't warn you," Cece chirped.

"And don't you be taking advantage of the fact that Clareabelle here has never drank before," Bullfrog added in a suggestive, scolding tone.

"Remember I had told you, Eli, no eclares running around the house quite yet," Cece threw in.

"Excuse me," Clare said abruptly, her chair scratching against the floor with a screech. She couldn't take being in the room any longer, and escape was the only thing on her mind. Good God, this was definitely a night to remember in the Hall of Fame for awkwardness...or something.

Clare locked herself in the washroom she stumbled upon, leaning over the counter with an exhausted sigh. She knew she'd have to get back out there eventually, but all she wanted right now was to go home.

"Clare, are you okay?" Undoubtedly Eli's voice from the other side of the door.

She turned on the sink for effect. "I'm fine."

"Can I come in?"

With another heaving sigh, she steered herself towards the washroom door, sluggishly flicking the knob open.

"You look pale," Eli noted nervously, walking in and shutting the door behind him. "Look, I'm sorry about my parents, they're just-"

"It's okay," she said quietly, backing up to the sink.

"You have to stop doing that," Eli shook his head.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You always pretend that you're okay. You're not," he said in gentle blatant. "Now tell me what's bothering you."

"I- we should go back-"

"You did it in the car," he reminded her softly, eyes pleading earnestly. "You can do it now."

Staring fixedly at the sleeve of his crisp black blazer, she gripped the counter more tightly- she found that she did that a lot, seizing things with more force than necessary when she was feeling particularly overwhelmed.

"Why are they being so pushy?" Clare asked, voice switching between something that was barely a whisper, and something that was barely and utter. "I just met them yesterday, and I feel like they're already pushing me to you."

His eyes tightened, and he looked strained. "You're different than Julia, and they like that," he whispered vaguely.

_Julia. _That name sounded so familiar… she was sure Fiona had brought her up before.

"Who's Julia?"

"She," Eli said, in no apparent rush to get to the point, "is…was, the beginning of everything."

The emotion in his voice was suddenly so intense, and in that instant, in that burst of intuition, Clare knew that this girl would unlock every secret she had been dying to unravel from the first moment she saw Eli Goldsworthy in her English class. It rang with every syllable, and every heartbeat that passed them by- this girl, whoever she was, could be his anything. She could be his girlfriend, a lover, someone that Eli would love infinity times more than he would ever like her. She was a mystery, and that made her even more dangerous.

Clare didn't register Eli taking her hand until they were on the staircase, moving towards his bedroom. She couldn't feel her legs, as they were numb with nerve. Any minute now, Eli would be telling her everything, and she wasn't so sure if she was ready to hear it now.

"Julia was my girlfriend," Eli said, staring out his window with a glassy expression on her face. Clare remained standing at the doorway, making no move towards the horrifying whirlwind of trash that was his room. It was an absolute mess, a pig sty to say the least, but that wasn't the reason why Clare was planted between the door jam.

Her theory was confirmed, Julia was Eli's girlfriend. Key word, _was._ Did it really matter, though? It was obvious that this girl had meant boatloads to Eli, and that thought alone was enough to provoke some painful tugging in her chest. The thought of Eli loving someone else hurt Clare more than it should have.

"She was my everything- my rock, my source for entertainment, my absolute everything. And I loved her more than anyone could possibly understand."

His love for her was a given, but it still hurt to hear the words. Clare wondered why she was so bothered by this when it was clear that there was so much more to the story. God, she was selfish, thinking about this when it didn't involve her.

"I really loved her Clare," he whispered, gazing brokenly at her. The vulnerably boy stood before her now, a mere three feet from where she was. A rational person would have immediately closed that distance between them and wrap him in a warm, comforting embrace. But Clare had grown to know Eli more than a rational person would, and saw the hollowness in his eyes that would not be fixed by a simple hug.

"Why do you love her?" she spoke for the first time since they've been up, evidently surprising Eli by her choice of question. He had probably been expecting a 'what happen' rather than a 'why do you love her'. That was Clare for you, always finding the deeper meaning beneath things.

"She was my escape," he answered, the ripping truth suggesting how needy their relationship had been. "Things were always intense between us, but she was better than cocaine. She taught me how to run away, and she was so good at it." He paused to draw a breath, letting his drug reference sink in. He probably expected her to react negatively, but Clare didn't move. "Her father hated me. He wanted her to be with someone else- someone better. Our relationship had always been a rebellious one, but Julia didn't mind. She stayed with me, even when her father kicked her out of the house."

"Like Egeus and Hermia," Clare said gingerly, vigilantly. Eli nodded and paused again, and she took his time to process all the new information in. Another confirmed theory of hers, stating that Eli really was nothing but trouble. Star-crossed lovers who were two famous Shakespeare stories in one. "And, she lived with you."

Eli gazed deeply at her, as if searching for something that would give away how she was really feeling. He would find nothing, for Clare had purposely put up her wall again. It was crucial to keep an impassive face, at least until he finished explaining. She couldn't let her emotion get in the way.

"Sex was another form of escape," he said, eyeing her carefully. The torpid grief tinged his voice grey. Remorse coated his unfathomable green irises. "After about a few weeks, we started to distance ourselves from one another, and that's when we started to fall apart. We'd have these long runs, but after that, I'd never see her. She'd be out, and she would never tell me where. I knew that I was her escape from her own issues, too- from her dad, from her step-mom, everything."

"One night, things got messy. We got into a fight, and she drove off in her motorcycle drunk. Got hit by a car."

Throat closed around a dry sob, Clare, couldn't bring herself to ask her the very question floating at the top of her mind.

"That was the last time I ever saw her," he stated numbly, gazing out the black window again. "Just like that, the closest person in my life was gone….all because of me."

"What did you do?" she asked hoarsely, mouth as dry as it had ever been.

"I let her leave," he said with utmost self-loathing. "I let her get away."

"But, you didn't kill her."

"Not directly, no, but it was mostly my fault," he shook his head obstinately. He then stopped, and looked at her with eerie hollowness. "I know who was driving that car."

A definite twist Clare hadn't seen coming. Unpredictable, erratic Eli he was, never failing to take her by surprise.

"Who is it?" Someone she probably didn't know, or course. She was more concerned of the wrath Eli might have towards this person, and how that had affected his mental state. Having someone kill your girlfriend was a traumatic thing that would no doubt influence your perspective and mind set, but _knowing _exactly who did it brought on a whole new range of complications. There was so much to be felt here, it was no wonder Eli was so heavily burdened. Anyone would feel extremely overwhelmed, going through the same situation he had.

At least a minute had passed, and he hadn't answered. By now, the distance between them was too much for Clare to handle, and she somehow willed her legs to move. With a shaking hand, she held Eli's distraught face, endeavouring to provide some sort of comfort to him.

"You don't have to tell me," she reassured softly, stroking his cheek with the pad of her thumb. The ardency in his eyes was blazing brokenly, and he immediately leaned into her palm. His gaze never wavered, never left her. "I am…sorry, Eli. I'm sorry that I can't do anything about it. I'm sorry that you had to lose someone you love that way."

"I'm sorry too," he whispered. "But Clare…"

"What, Eli?"

His eyes tightened even more, if that was possible.

"It was Drew."


	20. Chapter 20

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><p><strong>Clare: <strong>

_It was Drew._

Suddenly, Eli's voice fell distant, reduced to nothing but a faint echo. She couldn't even bring herself to cogitate over the absurdity of such an idea, couldn't even make sense of what he was saying. The warmth of her fingertips dissipated, and she released her gentle grip from on his face.

"How is that even possible?" Clare said in a way that could only be described as a mixture of surprise, terror, skepticism, and hurt.

"He had always been pining over Julia," Eli said bitterly, still looking intently at her. "I knew he wanted her more than anything else, that he couldn't stand the idea of us being together."

"Do you have evidence?" Clare asked rather sharply.

Eli looked alarmed. Clare _never_ spoke with such venom in her voice.

"No," he admitted warily. "But shortly after they found her body, he was wandering disoriented around the scene of the crime. I saw him- I knew it was him. He disappeared after that, and I haven't seen him until up to a few days ago."

"Did you talk to him?" Clare said slowly, narrowing her eyes. She casted a critical scan over him, as if vacillating whether to trust him or not. Her head told her no, her heart begged her yes, and she was being split apart from straight down the middle. What exactly was the appropriate response to this?

"I didn't realize it was him until later on. And then realizing that you were actually friends with him…" he shuddered, grinding his teeth together.

"That's why you didn't want me to be around him? You think he's a killer?"

"I don't believe it was an uncanny coincidence, Clare. He really wanted to be with her," he said icily, still watching her with caution. "He used every trick in the book, and I strongly believe he had the mentality that if he couldn't be with her, no one can. You can't be around someone like that- he could hurt you."

No, no, no, this was too much for her so stomach. Drew? A vindictive, insane killer? Preposterous! Drew wasn't the lightest bulb in the basement. He was a perpetually happy person whose anger flickered out faster than a blown-out candle. But more than anything, he wasn't the type to _pine over _pine girl- in the doggy-dog, y-chromosome- teenage- hormone sense, he was constantly on the prowl for someone new. Nothing Eli was saying correlated to the Drew she knew.

"I don't believe you," she said quietly, backing up and gazing fearfully at him. Eli was someone she had known for a few weeks; Drew for a matter of years. This was not a debatable matter. "He-he's not like that."

"Clare…please," he implored, searching her eyes. He seemed to be struggling to keep his emotions intact. "I'm not asking you to believe me."

"Then what are you asking me for?" she asked, face contorting in the pain of confusion.

"All I want is for you to not leave me," he said hoarsely. The purity of his honesty blinded Clare with its bright light, and it made it so much harder for her to deny him. "Please, Clare. I didn't want to tell you all of this because I didn't want to scare you, or offend you, for that matter. Please, please, understand that I'm not making any of this up."

"I don't doubt anything you said about Julia," she clarified, breathing in raggedly. "I just don't think I can believe you over Drew."

"Have you asked him yourself?"

"No, Eli, how could I-"

"Ask him," he pleaded urgently. "Call him right now and ask him."

"I can't do that," she said, sounding appalled.

"But unless he confirms it, you're not going to…."

Even with the unspoken words, Clare understood what he meant, and for a second, she wondered the same thing. Would she shun Eli because of what conflict he had between another close friend of hers? Was she that kind of person? Was it really because she was fiercely loyal to Drew that drove a wedge between them, or was there something else stirring beneath the pot?

_You can't always be afraid._

No, it wasn't. In plain English, she was just afraid. Afraid of all the baggage that he had finally laid out for her to see. Afraid to accept the fact that she was making up excuses as to why she couldn't be around him. Afraid of the big mess she would inevitably be dragged into if she was so involved in Eli's life. Clare was afraid, and maybe there was a small part of her that wanted to defend Drew's honor. Maybe she was doubtful about Eli's far-fetched story. Was she worried about him being a liar though? Not at all.

Aside from all the confusing feelings, it all was down to whether her feelings for him were strong enough to work through the baggage.

"Oh Eli," she whispered, staggering back into a spinney chair. She buried her face in her hands. "God, this is so confusing."

"Sorry," he whispered back, kneeling down before her. Peeking through her fingers, Clare caught a glimpse of his hands folded shakily in his lap. He looked sad. "Sorry I'm such a bum-bum."

And then a weak smile crackled across her face, against every rational reaction she could have gone for.

"This is such a big mess," she laughed feebly, wiping her dry, lifeless eyes.

"I wish it wasn't," Eli smiled sadly in return, gingerly removing her hands from her face and drawing gentle circles on them with his thumbs. "But Clare, I know you don't trust me yet, and I completely understand that. I feel like I'm asking you for a lot, but do you think you can talk to Drew? I'll come with you, I promise. I just need you to believe me."

"Not now, though," Clare said in an undertone.

"Not now, but soon," Eli allowed. "Though I have to ask you-"

"If you're telling the truth, than that will be something we need to work out. Together," Clare cut in. "You, me, Drew, Adam- whoever it may concern."

"Does that mean…" Eli's eyes lit up with hope.

She smiled again, a little stronger this time. "I'm not going anywhere. I told you that, didn't I?"

"Oh Clare," Eli murmured, letting go of her hands and wrapping her in a tight embrace. Clare's arms wound around his back, wanting to close whatever distance they had between each other. He was so warm and inviting, she would surely have regretted turning away from him.

"But in turn, I do have to ask you one thing," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"What's that?" he asked, head turned towards her and lips in her hair. His soft breath sent tingles down her neck, making it almost impossible to form a coherent response.

"Uhh," she faltered, merging her eyebrows together. _Oh my God, Clare, why can't you remember? _

"Uhh?" Eli mimicked, probably smirking into her hair.

"I can't remember- wait, no, I got it," she stammered, eliciting a chuckle from Eli. She began to draw away, trying to make it so that he wouldn't feel the heat radiating off her cheeks, but was unable to. Eli's arms stayed where they were, firmly enclosed around her torso.

"Hey, I'm not done yet."

She let out a soft giggle, pushing him away. "I'm trying to remember here. You're going to make me forget again."

"Well then, I suppose it is my fault that you're so smitten with me," he said slyly, squeezing her tighter.

"_Anyway,_" she said, emphasizing the word. Growing scarlet patches on her face at the truth of his words. She swallowed, channeling the appropriate tone to suit the gravity of her question. "I want to know…if you're totally not over Julia. Because I'd get it if you don't- you two do have some unfinished business…"

"Honesty," Eli began, knitting his brows together, "I think we would have broken up anyway. Eventually the outside force of the world would have split us apart. I used to see us lasting in the forever kind of way, but looking back, I don't think that was a realistic belief."

"But you're still going to love her, even if that did happen," Clare said softly. Neither jealous nor hurt now that she has a clearer vision of things, she was sympathetic. Almost sad that Eli had to go through such a devastating loss.

"She was my best friend before she was my girlfriend, and the way she died just makes things a little harder," he pondered pragmatically. "One day, I'll let go of her for good."

"Don't," she frowned, shaking her head much to Eli's confusion. "You'll move on from the lamentation within time. But please don't let go of someone who meant so much to you." Clare encouragingly laced her fingers through his. "Don't forget someone like that."

Eli smiled graciously, tugging her so that she would sit down before him. "Thanks, Clare."

"Thank _you _for letting me in," she said gently.

**Eli: **

The walk to the kitchen was more like a glide- a floating glide. Every cell in his body was bursting with elation over what could possibly be the greatest that has happened to him in a long time. Every few seconds there would be a massive explosion of happiness from inside of him, reminding him of what wonderful thing had just happened a mere thirty seconds ago- Clare wasn't going anywhere. He hadn't exactly told her _everything, _but almost. Frankly speaking, he wasn't planning on telling her at all- graveyard shifts were no biggie, right? It was a part-time job he held, just like everyone else, so there shouldn't be an issue in regards to it. Even if he was lying to himself, he was far too joyful to squander his energy worrying about another matter he'd eventually have to deal with.

Her parents were sitting on the dining room table, having already cleared up the food and such. Murmuring lowly to each other, they seemed genuinely perplexed about something.

"Baby boy, Is everything all right?" Cece asked, prompting Bullfrog to turn around as well. Eli continued to descend the stairs in a gliding motion, casually walking over to the fridge.

"Before you two started pushing her to me, it was," he said calmly, grabbing a couple of water bottles and a leftover plate of cake from a few nights past.

For some reason, most of the amazing moments he had with Clare involved food- in the library, the cafeteria, the baking- food brought them closer together. That was how they bonded.

"Eli, honey, we're sorry," Cece said sincerely, eyeing him nervously. "We didn't mean to make you or Clare feel uncomfortable."

"I know," he sighed. "I know you're just glad she's nothing like Julia."

Bullfrog and Cece shared look- Eli had just openly brought up the taboo subject on a casual note.

"We talked about it, and things are good," he continued. "So I guess I have you guys to thank for leading us there."

"Atta' boy," Bullfrog said with a grin, reaching out to slap his back.

"And she would have come down here to apologize for dinner, but I told her not to. I think she's also hungry, because her stomach had just made an inhuman sound."

His parents laughed heartily, gazing fondly at their son. "Better not keep her waiting then."

With the two bottles in one hand, and the plate of cake in the other, he hopped up the stairs, heart thudding in anticipation. They had at least a good four hours to kill before Clare had to go home, and he was excited at the prospects of spending every second of that time with her. The night was still young, fresh with possibilities.

"Did someone order some cheesecake?" Eli declared, greeted by another growl form Clare's stomach.

She glanced around. "Well, if no one's here to claim it I guess I'll…"

Eli had to laugh. She was so darn cute, it was ridiculous.

"You're gonna have to share with me, if you don't mind," he said breezily, handing her a fork. He seated next to her on his bed, purposely letting his leg touch hers to test out the waters. She smiled warmly in return, and he took it as a green light.

"There's something I want to try," he said suddenly, cocking his head to the side.

"Mhmm hm?" Clare nodded curiously, her mouth full of cheesecake. She made a move to cut another piece to eat, watching her fork intently and sparing not even a glance in Eli's direction. Unsatisfied, Eli reached out quickly to take a large chunk and shovel it in this mouth. "That was nice," she frowned.

"You'll live," he shrugged, stealing another large quantity and devouring it with a gulp.

"So that thing you wanted to try?" she reminded him, turning his back on him.

"Oh yeah." He reached over her and attempted to steal more, but Clare kept moving away from him. "_Claaaaare_," he whined, still struggling to get more cake.

"You already inhaled your fair share," she said defiantly, grinning impishly.

"I told you, I'm a growing boy," he sulked playfully, folding his arms.

"Oh fine. Here, you pouty boy," Clare sighed, handing him the plate. He smirked in triumph, but fed her another forkful of goods before sitting it on his bedside table.

"You know, there's something about New Year's Eve that makes it feel hopeful," he said thoughtfully. "It's filled to the brim with possibilities that wouldn't otherwise be considered any other time of the year."

"What are you going at, Goldsworthy?" Clare asked suspiciously.

He grinned widely. "I want to try something."

She blinked." Okay…than why don't you?"

"I need you to close your eyes."

"What are you planning to do to do me?"

"Your trust in me…ouch," Eli said, clutching is chest in pretend pain. Clare rolled her eyes with a smile. "Close them, come on."

And she obeyed with slight hesitation, but it wasn't the kind of hesitation that reflected on her trust in him. Rather, it was the wariness that came along with ignorance, the blindness he insisted on putting upon her.

Chalking up the courage to do what he wanted to do wasn't as hard as he thought it'd be- yes, his palms were damp with sweat, and his heart accelerated in anticipation. But upon recent events, doubt would no longer be holding him back. It was the adrenaline alone that made him giddy with nervousness. With Clare, the possibilities were endless.

He took a moment to admire her thick, doll-like lashes lying over her closed eyes. His eyes trailed upwards to the wide expanse of her white forehead, to the pump pink lips that held a hint of a smile. Flaws there might have been, but she was an angel regardless. And angel of whom he took a chance on by hoisting her up, hands splayed over her waist. He lifted her up and onto his lap so that she was straddling him, and wiggled backwards onto the bed so that his legs wouldn't be hanging off when he extended them.

"Keep them closed," he murmured in her ear, watching her face clench together. She gasped, making a desperate clutch at his shoulders, but her eyes remained squeezed shut.

"What are you doing?" she whispered anxiously, breathing deeply onto his face.

"Just…stay still for a sec," he breathed, eyes falling to her lips. Slowly but surely, he began to lean closer, closing his eyes and tilting his face ever so slightly. Clare was careful not to move, and was obviously nervous. This didn't stop him from taking his sweet time, though. Closer and closer he moved, wanting to savour the proximity between them, but also eager as hell for his lips to touch hers. After countless interruptions for at least ten thousand different reasons, they were finally going to share a first kiss, and nothing was going to stop them.

At last they touched, Eli's lower lip brushing hers in gentle sweetness that would be enough to heat her heart to the boiling point. She was so soft, so delicate, he was extra-careful not to do anything too intensifying that may potentially overwhelm her. This was her first kiss, after all, and Eli wanted to make it something to remember.

Clare's hands somehow found a way to withdraw from his shoulders, moving to her lap. Eli's hands remained holding her waist, feeling the warmth of her body underneath the fabric of her shirt. At this time, their lips bean to move in synchronization, melting together in a way that could only be described as absolute perfection. The heat, and the electricity that had been sparkling between them for weeks melted into a pool of tender care and adoration, and to Eli, it tasted sweeter than anything he's every tasted.

They broke apart for the shortest second, but only to catch their breath and delve right in again. The distance between them during the break was no more than razor-thin, but in that fraction of a second, Eli found the yearning in his heart becoming more desperate. He was practically bubbling with blissfulness, and yet, it would never be enough. He wanted to stay like this forever. He wanted to never be farther away from Clare than he was now, because it completed him in a way that nothing and no one else could. Clare was the light to his perpetual darkness.

"Wow," she breathed, looking dazed and flustered. He almost peed his pants from happiness, seeing how much he had affected her.

"Yeah," he breathed back, quite dazed himself. He loosened his grip on her, but didn't let go.

"Can you lie down next to me?" she asked shyly, wriggling out of his grasp and laying on the bed. She gazed pensively at the ceiling.

"Only because you asked me to," he smiled softly, lying beside her. The sound of their heartbeat beating erratically filled the room, and for a minute they fell into a deep, comfortable silence. Eli focused on replaying the kiss in his head, hoping to have it engraved in his mind. Lying like this next to her would come to a close second, behind kissing her, and he would have been content if they stayed like this for the rest of the night.

Clare shifted so that she was turned towards him, placing a small hand on his chest.

"Hello," he chuckled, the deep rumbling causing more movement under Clare's palm.

"I'm feeling your heartbeat," she stated delicately. "I'm trying to memorize how it feels."

Eli smiled softly. "Can I feel yours?"

"Only if you tell me…what does this exactly mean?"

He understood at once. "Why, are you not as excited of the prospects of being friends -with -benefits with me as I thought you would?"

"I'm not greedy," she said contemplatively. "And I'm in no particular rush."

"What do you think about taking things slow?" he mused. He liked the idea, much to his surprise. Being able to build-up and graciously savour every moment to come seemed like a wonderful proposal to him. He didn't want to rush, or screw things up in a haste to move their relationship along. Besides- he was Clare's first of everything, and it was something that not only flattered him, but made him want to take extra care with her. He wanted to make things work with Clare _sooooo _badly, and he was willing to do absolutely anything.

"I'd like that," she said tenderly.

"Me too. So, can I feel your heart or what? My hand's cramping in anticipation."

"Leave it to you to kill a moment," she rolled her eyes playfully, picking up his hand by the finger and placing it on her chest. Sure enough, it was racing at his touch, and emitting heat that only added to his. It was a glorious feeling, the only negative part being that he had to strongly resist roaming. Maybe if he innocently stretched out his fingers a bit-

"Eli," a voice called from the other side of his bedroom door. "Your phone is ringing."

Grudgingly, he released his palm from her heart, sending her a quick apologetic look before getting up open the door. Bullfrog stood with his cell, shrugging his shoulders apologetically.

"Hello?" he muttered.

"I'm tired of having to reach you, boy," a man growled from the receiving end. "Read your messages."

"Sorry, I was busy," he gritted his teeth together.

"You'll be busy tonight if anything. I want you to cover a double this week," the man ordered roughly.

"I can't," he mumbled, stomach dropping to his feet.

"You can, and you will. I don't want to hear any excuses from you."

"It's New Year's Eve, for fucking sake," he hissed, turning his back on Clare so that she wouldn't hear him. "Why do you need me tonight?"

"Because I say so," the man said hostilely. "And _you, _will do what I say."

"I'm-I'm with my parents right now. They're not gonna let me leave tonight," he lied. The parental card would only work every so often, and right now, he needed to use it.

A raucous sound charged at his ear drums, and he winced outwardly. "Tomorrow then, and expect to be working twice as hard. Nine o'clock and no later. You got it, kid?"

"Yes," he said through his teeth. "I understand."

"Is everything okay?" Clare asked, wrenching herself in an upright position. She patted the spot next to her.

"Yeah, it's fine." He tried to pass off as breezy, smiling for effect. She didn't look convinced, but accepted it anyway. "Hey, why don't we do something fun right now?"

"So kissing me wasn't fun?" she joked, raising her eyebrows.

"I don't remember," he frowned, jutting out in lower lip. He tapped on his chin. "Maybe you should… remind me."

The corners of her mouth lifted up ever so slightly, and she immediately leaned forward to capture his lips into another breathtaking kiss. Eli closed his eyes eagerly in expectancy, waiting for the impact.

"First one down the stairs wins," she breathed on his lips, ripping away and starting her sprint out the door.

His eyes snapped open.

"The little devil," he muttered amusedly.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hello everyone, I apologize for the week-long wait for this chapter. It's quite lengthy, so I hope this makes up for the short hiatus.**

**As always, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Eli:<strong>

"T-O!" Clare panted, hiding behind one of the pillars in Eli's basement.

For the longest time the two chased each other around the house, zipping up and down the stairs with stamina neither knew they had in them. Their noisy footsteps and laughter never seemed to die, and they probably would have stayed above ground for the rest of the night going on like that if they could. However, after nearly running into Bullfrog in the living room, and having to hear Eli's loudest roar of laughter at her reaction, Clare resorted to making a beeline down the spooky stairs. The change of scenery only fuelled Eli with more exhilaration- there was no way Clare could get far without turning on the lights.

"I can't hear you over your impending demise!" he smirked, advancing predatorily towards her. His hands were out front, ready to pounce. Just as he suspected, she ran towards the first solid object she could find, seeking for some sort of safety.

"No wait!" Clare squeaked desperately, hugging the wooden structure frantically.

"Not _waaaait-ing_," he sang in an obnoxiously loud voice.

"Eli stop!" she shrieked.

"I'm _cooooming,_" he drawled impishly, snickering at the dirtiness of his statement that Clare's innocent mind didn't pick up.

"No no no no, I'm not moving," she huffed, firmly wrapping her legs around the pillar.

Oh no, he was already starting to get horny from just being around Clare and his inside joke. That position was certainly not helping the vivid images in his head.

He strode over and planted himself right behind her, folding his arms amusedly. She was in a full-out koala position, holding onto the pole for dear life. Her eyes were shut tight, evidently waiting for something positively horrible to happen to her. How he found joy in chasing after her like this.

"Oh, Clare," he shook his head, feigning disapproval. Her face was dangerously mischievous at this point.

So many things he wished to do…but so many he couldn't. After contemplating various things he could have easily done to her- things he was truthfully too damn afraid to do- he settled for walking around the pillar so that he was facing her.

"Hi there," he smiled sweetly, having to glance up at her a bit.

"You're gonna tickle me, I know it," she cried, squeezing her eyes even tighter.

He chuckled lowly, reaching out to brush the curly strands of hair out of her face. Hovering for a mere second in the air, he gazed fixedly at her to see if she would open her eyes, watching even as he continued to float closer. He noticed how much easier this was when there wasn't two large blue orbs staring back at him with tender innocence, how he could fully admire her beauty without feeling his heart rocketing back and forth in his chest. His insatiable thirst for her was barely satisfied by merely drinking her in that short moment, and he yearned for more touch- more connection, more contact.

And when her eyelids flipped open to reveal the strikingly gorgeous eyes he knew he'd never grown accustomed to, he balked. Sure, it's not the _first time _he had looked directly in her eyes. It's the proximity and intimacy that overwhelmed him in more ways than one. He froze like a deer in the headlights, staring at back at her as if there was nothing else he could do.

A cute smile made way to her face, and she responded by blowing lightly into his face. Without thinking, Eli greedily inhaled the aromatic scent. And if that wasn't enough to send thrilling chills down his body, she pushed him even further by leaning forward to gently touch her nose with his- with Clare, nothing she did was ever intended to be more than just light-hearted playfulness. She meant to convey something jocular, something cheerful and light. But Eli's body, however, could not read anything past the intimacy of the act, and reacted in a way that kind of went like

"_Uggm_," he blurted-squeaked unintelligibly, having been caught off-guard. He wasn't prepared for she just did. He didn't have time to work up to it. She couldn't just do something like that and expect him to remain calm and collected, could she? "I mean um…what?"

"Your face is as red as a tomato," she noted thoughtfully, eyes creased with laughter. "Am I doing that to you?"

_Stop breathing on me Clare you're making it hard to lie and say no._

"No," he peeped unconvincingly, voice cracking. He cleared his throat, buying more time to recover. "No," he said more determinedly.

"Oh my gosh, I am!" she grinned excitedly, releasing the pole.

"Am not," he said stubbornly, averting his gaze and pouting like a five-year old.

"Look at me," she said, trying to find his eyes. "Look at me and tell me that I'm not making you blush."

"Noo," he whined, crossing his arms and turning away. "Stop it."

"Don't be ashamed, Eli," she giggled softly. "I want to see."

"Real men do not blush," he stated pertinaciously, his back still turned to her.

"But you're not a real man," she countered at once.

"Oww," he whimpered, hugging his chest. "That hurt."

"You're such a baby now," she teased, tugging on his arm. "Come on, I need another red-faced Eli for my photo album."

"Now you're just mocking me!" he declared miserably, shaking away her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said with a teasing smile, letting a full five seconds pass before gasping sharply, as if something suddenly dawned on her. "No, wait did I really hurt your feelings? Oh no, Eli I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, I'm really sorry please forgive me! I didn't mean to make fun of you like that!"

A crooked smirk of triumph began to tug on his lips. The satisfaction and amusement was so great, he almost felt guilty for making Clare feel blameworthy. She was simply too easy to crack.

"Well…." He started, stifling a grin. "Maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Clare queried guiltily, peering over at him.

"Maybe… if you kiss me, my self-esteem would swell up a bit," he suggested with an innocent shrug. "And let me prepare this time. It's rude to spontaneously inflict that kind of intimacy upon someone like that Clare."

Her face crinkled up in slight confusion, but was soon ironed out by the realization of being played- for the second time, Eli's impeccable acting had fooled her into feeling accountable for wounding his ego. "Heaven knows you're a fragile one, huh Goldsworthy?" she shook her head.

"Can you kiss me anyway?" he asked in a childish tone, gazing up at her with puppy-dog eyes. He sincerely longed to feel her lips against his again. This way, his ego wouldn't be seriously bruised if she rejected him.

"I don't kiss pouty little boys," she smiled teasingly, before a realization of some sort hit her. Her eyes suddenly widened, and she clapped her hands together out of nowhere. "Hey, do you still have those marshmallows and chocolate from the other day?"

He raised his eyebrows suspiciously. "I do. Why the sudden need for sweet treats now, Edwards?"

She shrugged shyly, tilting her head to the side in a timid manner. "I like chocolate."

"As long as you have a valid reason," he laughed, louder than he expected to.

"How else am I going to stay up tonight?" she said rhetorically, rationalizing her sudden desire for a sweet, sticky treat.

"I usually drink coffee."

She wrinkled her nose. "Coffee stunts your growth, you know. Plus, I'll end up bitter- like you."

"Okay, so chocolate for the lady and for the wounded ego," Eli declared resolutely, nodding before turning on his heel and up the stairs. Clare giggled and hurried to follow, but wasn't quite fond of the idea of lagging behind. She made a move to catch up to him, but he purposely broadened his shoulders so that she was unable to. She tried again on the other side, and he did the same.

"Eli, your shoulders are in the way," she huffed, trying and failing again for the side she originally tried to move past.

"Are they now?" he mused, deliberately taking his time to climb up the steps.

"Good Heavens, you did insist on being difficult don't you?" Clare said.

"Granny word number three- or phrase, for that matter," Eli chimed, holding the banister. With a sly smile, he leaned back as far as he could go, pressing against Clare. His head lolled over her shoulder, and he stayed there for a while. "Hi."

She jutted out her lip contemplatively, and remained stoically still as he lay on her.

"Clare?" he asked uncertainly, lifting his head cautiously when she didn't respond. "Are you-"

_Whoosh. _There was a gust of wind that swooped under his arm, and with a jolt he realized that Clare had just zipped past him in the speed of light. Managing only to catch a glimpse of her sock feet as she raced up, his arms now strained without the support of another body. His muscles now ached in protest, whining at the startling loss.

"Clare," he called, wasting no time as he sprinted up after her. "I-oh my God."

And it was hot. Like, _really _hot. The scalding, blazing heat smacked into him so hard, he nearly toppled over at how horrifically extreme the temperature was. It was like walking into a sauna, and it wouldn't be long before his considerably warm clothes would start clinging on to him from the humidity.

"Sorry kids, the furnace is acting up again," Cece quickly apologized, ushering Bullfrog down the stairs with a big box of tools. "Did you hear any strange sounds when you were down there?"

"Um, no," Eli scratched his head sheepishly. "I don't think we did."

"Well, it looks like we're be stuck in his heat stroke for at least a little while longer," she said worriedly, climbing back up again. She glanced from Clare to Eli, and screwed her lips to the side. "Eli, you might want to change into some lighter clothes for the time being- and don't go outside, okay? I don't want either of you catching a cold."

"What about Clare?" he asked in concern, scanning over her long pants.

"Oh, no it's fine," Clare said dismissively, not wanting to cause any more hassle.

"Clare, honey, you're going to be sweltering in the matter of minutes," Cece said, checking the thermostat hanging on the wall- it read a blistering twenty-seven degrees, a norm for super duper hot Canadian summers."I'd lend you my clothes, but most of it is in the wash…"

"I think I might be able to find something" Eli volunteered quickly, raising his hand out of impulse. He dropped it just as fast, his face heating up- and not just from the broken furnace, though.

"I don't think it's necessary," Clare smiled politely.

"Don't be silly, come on," Eli said invitingly, gently seizing her wrist. Always gentle, gentle, gentle with this one.

A knowing smirk began to play on Cece's lips, and Eli knew that if he didn't lead her up quickly now, he would be caught in yet another embarrassing moment _a grâce sa mère. _

"_And we will be right back, maybe_," he announced loudly, hoping to drown out anything that might come out of his mother's mouth. Clare looked at him with mild confusion, but he just shook his head.

"What, do you have a secret stash of pretty dresses you never told me about?" Clare inquired jokingly, her bangs already matted against her forehead with damp sweat. Both their palms were clammy with perspiration- at least, Eli liked to think so. The good thing about this heat is that Clare would never be able to differentiate between nervous-sweat and hot-sweat. The thought of her dressed in his clothes… an excited current rippled through him.

"You know I'm the type to commit surreptitious crimes, Edwards," he rolled his eyes, leading her to his room once again. Suddenly cognizant of the giant mess he had to the floor, he shoved all his stuff aside to clear a pathway for Clare to walk. His hoarding issue had been diagnosed months ago, and to look at the quantity of books, papers, empty food containers and other knick-knacks remained sprawled across the floor was a bit discouraging. So much progress had been made, and there was still a long way to go before he could successfully say that he was cured.

"Here," he said breezily, taking a quick whiff of the fabric to make sure it didn't have the redolence of sweat or his deodorant before lobbing to her a pair of clean gym shorts and his favourite black t-shirt.

"Don't throw it don't throw it-!" Clare flinched, arms whapping out before the material made contact with her hands.

A sweaty grin broke out in his face, making a mental note of her poor athletic ability. Not that it did wonders for his self-esteem, but

"You can change here if you like. I'll wait outside for you."

"Then we can go make smores?" she asked hopefully.

"Then we can go make smores."

Clare made an _O _with her thumb and index finger, a universal signal for _a- okay. _Eli offered his famous crooked smirk and backed out the door, making sure to grab another pair of shorts before heading out.

"Mom!" he called from the top of the stairs, stripping off his painfully tight and sticky jeans.

"Yeah, baby?"

"When when the furnace be fixed?"

"What?"

"_When will the furnace be fiiixed?"_

"_What?"_

"Oh my God mom, _when will the damn furnace be fixed?" _he roared, producing as much sound as his throat enabled him to. With an exasperated sigh, he pulled the bottom up to his hips. Sometimes, his mom…

"Boo," a small voice said from behind, causing Eli to jolt upwards in surprise. "Why are you yelling, Eli?"

"That was fast," he noted, unable to stop himself from checking Clare out. His eyes lingered on her snow-white calves that his shorts exposed of her, before trailing up towards her arms. Oblivious to his scrutiny, Clare rolled up the sleeves of his t-shirt in an obvious attempt to cool down her as much of her skin as possible.

"_What? _Eli, you got to come down if you want me to hear you!" Cece screeched.

"Never mind," he muttered, embarrassed by how his mothers shrill voice made Clare wince in discomfort. She offered him an awkward smile, leaning against the railings next to him.

"It's going to be a long night, you know," she sighed, absentmindedly twirling her hair. "And there's so many things we can do right now."

"Like what?"

"A lot of things," she answered vaguely, taking her phone out of her pocket. "Like…I got a text from Adam while I was changing, he's kind of bored out of his mind."

He raised an eyebrow, prodding her to continue.

"Do you maybe…want to go over there for a little while?" she asked warily, carefully watching his reaction. Seeing him tense up immediately at the prospects of being under the same roof as _that guy_, she hastily added, "It's okay if you don't want you. I just figured it was-"

"You can…invite Adam over," he said slowly, making sure to emphasize on the younger Torres's name. "Maybe I could invite Fiona over too, and we can all hang out."

The esoteric tightness in his speech made it clear that was wasn't too keen on compromising any further, and he tried hard not to sound too strangled with angry reluctance. He didn't want Clare to see how much of a problem he had with Drew. He wanted to shelter her from the gravity of past occurrences as much as he could. It was just another thing he didn't want her to get dragged into.

"That sounds perfect," she said softly, typing in Adam's number. "Why don't you go call her now?"

He plastered on a fake smile, and nodded. "Yeah, perfect."

**Clare: **

"Hey Clare," Adam greeted cheerfully, hurrying to close the door behind him when he realized she was dressed in summer-like clothing. "Whoa, you weren't kidding about the heat in here."

"Hi Adam," she smiled jovially, suddenly feeling self-conscious in Eli's clothes. The frosty air nipped at her bare legs when the door shut with a slam, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. Rubbing fervently on her upper arms, she ushered her best friend further inside the Goldsworthy household, stopping just shy of the bathroom entrance. "You can change here if you like."

"Thanks," he said, poking his head inside. "I'll see you in a bit."

In the kitchen, Fiona ad Eli were already chatting up a storm- though, Fiona was providing most of the conversation material. Eli just sat and listened, his contribution in the form of an eye-roll or a head shake.

"…and we had the most wonderful time, Eli! Imo is just such lovely company, you know? Her eccentricity is like a breath of fresh air from all the snobby, high-class gold-diggers back home," Fiona mused, bouncing her tea bag in an out of her cup.

"Sounds like you two hit it off," Eli smirked, as Fiona sipped her drink and crossed her legs.

Dressed in a gorgeous silky tank-top and hair perfectly coiffed with an elegant headpiece, Clare felt her body shrink against the door jam in deflated self-confidence. Fiona was such a naturally beautiful creature: slender, with a flawless beige complexion and long shiny hair. She wondered how much different it would be if Fiona displayed some sort of attraction towards Eli, how she wouldn't be here if it meant competing against such a beauty.

"Hi, um, Adam's here," she said timidly, shoulders hunching together slightly in uncertainty.

"You invited Adam?" Fiona whispered with sudden urgency, eyeing Eli in shock.

"He's a friend of Clare," he shrugged, looking at Clare with a softness that was meant solely for her. Her heart fluttered in flattery, taking pleasure in knowing that it was like a secret they shared- a look reserved for her, coming from him. She averted her gaze and bowed her head, pretending to occupy herself with her feet. "And I thought you two were going out?"

"Yeah...we just haven't spoken in a while," she confirmed uneasily, taking another sip of her tea.

"I'll uh, I'll be right back," Clare blurted breathily, backing out of sight faster than Fiona could spare a glance in her direction. She speedily made her way to the bathroom, knocked repetitively on the door with near-silent knuckles.

"Um, can I help you Clare?" Adam frowned as the door swung open.

"I told you Fiona was coming, right?" she said in a hushed tone.

He furrowed his brow. "I uh- affirmative?"

"You have two haven't spoken in weeks, am I right?"

He seemed to pick up a sense of where this was heading, and pressed his lips together.

"Adam…" she whispered worriedly.

"I've been trying to break up with her for the past few days," he admitted dejectedly, slumping his shoulders. "At this point, I think it's pretty mutual."

"What's been stopping you?"

"She won't talk to me- she won't even look at me! I can't even get in two words without her hurrying off!" he mumbled dismally.

"Oh dear," Clare fretted, palming her forehead. "Why didn't you say anything when I told you Fiona was coming?"

"Because if she knew I was coming, she wouldn't have. I figured now would be the best time to sort things out, any maybe go back to being friends," Adam explained quietly.

"I guess now's the best time," she sighed. "Come on."

Adam lagging behind, they walked to the kitchen, a palpable tension drifting in the air. Fiona was sitting in the same position she was two minutes ago, only now with lines of distress creased on her forehead.

"Hey, Fi," Adam called out uncomfortably.

"I have to go," she said abruptly, pushing the chair aside and picking up her bag.

"You can't keep running away from this, Fiona," Adam said, voice rising in slight exasperation. "Come on, let's talk about this in the other room and- oh, sorry, hey man." He nodded briefly at Eli before diverting his focus back to Fiona again.

"Hey," Eli nodded back, slowly rising from his seat. He casted a suspicious stare upon the two, evidently troubled by then static electricity clinging onto the room like gum on hair.

"I'm tired, Adam, I have to go," Fiona shook her head, searching frantically for her coat.

"You just got here! Why can't you just admit that things are not working out between us, and that we'd be better off as friends?" Adam said, torn between frustration and desperation.

"Not now, Adam," she snapped irritably.

"Fiona, what's going on?" Eli asked circumspectly, consciously throwing himself in the midst of their drama.

"No!" she hissed, glaring at Adam. "I have to go _now_!"

"We're done, Fiona," he said, but not in a way that was callous and purposely hurtful. Fiona was not giving give him any other option.

"Then I'd have no other excuse!" Fiona screeched, smashing her china cup onto the floor with a fling of her arm. It shattered into thousands of thin fragments, creating a pool of sharp, jagged glass pieces in the center of the room- just inches form Adam's feet. The room fell silent at once, and everyone was too stunned to make a move. Adam's face was a white sheet, eyes enlarged from shock. Fiona's breath was caught in her throat, her arm still outstretch before her. Eli was leaned back against the table, gripping it with a look of disbelief written on his pallid face.

Clare, on the other hand, had been the victim of the nasty incident. Her ankles and feet were marred with many slashes and scrapes, and were starting to ooze out bright red blood. Unable to process the initial shock of pain, she remained frozen at first, backed up against the wall behind her. There had been a dull stinging around her fee that caused her to look down, and when her eyes quickly took in the damage and the redolence filled her nostrils, she instantly felt nausea. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, and her heart was thudding tensely.

"Clare!" Eli gasped, something finally snapping inside of him. At once, he made a beeline to where she was standing, literally throwing the chair that was in his way across the kitchen. He kneeled down beside her feet, inspecting the damage with critical eyes. "Clare, does it hurt? Where does it hurt?

She said nothing, and attempted to take a step forward. The weight on her feet sent a sharp stab of pain in that area, and the impact was harder than she expected it to be. Sprawled on the ground with such intense pain, she let out a whimper, shedding a single salty tear from one of her frightened eyes.

"We need to get the glass out of her, pronto," Adam said, falling next to her with a half panicky, half- scared expression on his face. "Do you have tweezers?"

"In the second drawer to your right," Eli ordered, never taking his eyes off of Clare's feet. His skin was turning whiter by the second, and the tenseness of his muscle only began to grow more profound. "Clare, you have to tell me how you feel."

"Everywhere," she whimpered, gesturing the general area. She winced as she tried to move, fists clenching until her hands were shaking and her knuckles were white. "My feet- it hurts e-everywhere."

"Don't move," he said sternly, reaching out to grab the tweezers from Adam without even looking at him.

"Do you know how to do this?" Adam asked worriedly, grasping Clare's hand for support. She squeezed him tightly.

"Don't worry, I got this," Eli said reassuringly, analyzing the cuts before looking at up at Clare. "This is going to hurt, Clare, I'm not gonna lie."

She nodded once, the terror quite apparent in her wide blue eyes.

"Here goes," Eli muttered, starting to gently pluck out a small shard of glass. Clare let out a gasp immediately, squeezing Adam with as much pressure as she could muster.

"It's okay, it'll be over soon," Adam murmured, gripping her with both hands.

Clare just nodded again, more tears escaping and dribbling down her face. Tearing her gaze away from the painful-looking procedure, she tried to distract herself by looking away, looking anywhere but at her feet. Sweeping the room with her eyes, they eventually met Fiona's crystal pair, which was paralyzed with shock. She stood, isolated far on the other side of the room with her body as still as a statue. There was a slight trace of guilt seeping through her eyes, conveying a clear enough message that it wasn't intentional. It was an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment accident, and they happen. Seeing her face was enough for Clare to forgive her.

She let out another staggered intake of breath, an unexpected jolt causing her body to jump in pain.

"It's okay Clare, it's okay," Eli said quietly, picking out another few shards from her lower legs. She concentrated on his face now, noticing how his temples were damp with sweat, how his forehead was beaded with perspiration. There was a little crinkle between his eyebrows as he focused intently on his work, something that intrigued her for some odd reason. His little quirks fascinated her more than they really should.

"Do you want me to distract you?"Adam offered. "I can- I can sing you a song, or-"

"I want to focus on the pain," she breathed, closing her eyes.

And sure enough, she did. Making every pluck the focal point of her mind, Clare successfully persevered through the pain. She never let go of Adam's hand.

"Adam, I'm almost done. Do you think you can get the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet now? It's to your right." Again, he didn't take his eyes off of his work.

"Fiona, "Adam muttered, jerking his head towards the cabinet. Clare found it rather unsettling that Eli didn't ask her to get it, when it was obvious that she wasn't occupied with anything else.

Silently, Fiona willed her feet to move, taking out the white box with difficulty. Gingerly, she placed it next to him.

"I think we need to wash this wound off his cold water first," Adam suggested. He didn't spare a single glance at Fiona, either.

"Turn on the tap, will you," Eli said, starting to slide his arms under her legs and around her torso.

"It'd be better if you stick a wad of towels under her feet and use a bin to wash her," Fiona said rather hoarsely. "She's in no position to be moved anywhere."

"Is the water cold? Eli called, completely ignoring her.

"Yeah."

"There was a first-aid class in cruise I went to in the Caribbean's last summer," she continued. "I could help-"

"Hey, are you ready?" Eli cut her off, looking softly in Clare's eyes. "I'm just going to take you to the sink, okay?"

She hesitated, gaze shifting from the two. "Eli…Fiona might be more suited for this," she said softly, seeing a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

"Clare…"

"Go see if Bullfrog needs any help," she said gently. "I'll be fine."

"Okay," Adam said, breaking the silent tension intensifying in the room." Come on, Eli."

"No Clare," he said simply.

"I can do this, Eli," Fiona pitched in, already pulling out a large bin from under the sink. "I've done this plenty of times on class."

"You told me about that," Adam murmured awkwardly.

"I'm not going to die or anything, Eli," Clare said teasingly. It was probably the wrong thing to say, considering his eyes had tightened up at her feeble attempt to crack a joke.

"No Clare," he said again, this time more resolutely.

"Adam, the dish towels are in that drawer down there," Fiona said, keeping her voice professional.

"Found them."

"Eli," Clare whispered pleadingly, inching her fingers to touch his.

"Just go, Eli," Fiona urged him, crossing her arms."

"Then fucking go to _hell_," he spat, ripping his hand away from her. Up and on his feet in a flash, he glared the most lethal glare at everyone in the room. "All of you."

The entire ground quaked when the door slammed behind him, leaving all the occupants in the state of speechless once again. Eli's venomous voice echoed across the kitchen, bounding off the white walls and straight into Clare's chest like a steel dagger knife. How much cooler his abrupt absence left her, how rejected she felt when he snatched his hand away from her. How, in spite of his obviously poor behaviour, Clare was flooded with guilt because of her choice of words and actions.

How he scared her in such a way.

"I'll… try to go talk to him," Adam said slowly, making a point to leave the chilly room. He bent down to pat Clare's shoulders on the way out, shutting the door behind him with a quiet _click_.

And then there were two.

"Fiona..."Clare said in a near inaudible voice. The other girl looked at her expectantly. "What is it?"


	22. Chapter 22

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**Frostival****.**

**My story seems so irrelevant now but like eclare interaction so**

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><p><strong>Clare: <strong>

"So…you like boys, and girls?"

Fiona shook her head ruefully, carefully bandaging Clare's ankles and feet with a soft, thick tape. Cringing even at the slightest contact, Clare clawed at the stack of towels keeping her feet elevated. She chewed viciously at her lower lip, trying hard not to emphasize her great pain.

"I've always taken an interest in girls- I was just too much in denial to think otherwise."

"And you kept Adam to reassure yourself," Clare guessed with a gentle voice, watching her reaction warily. "He was the one proof that you were just like everybody else."

"Clare Edwards, you read me like a book," she smiled, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear. "There- that should do it."

"Thank you," Clare said gratefully, running her fingers through the layers and layers of heavy bandages.

"You shouldn't be thanking me," Fiona chided, helping her up and onto a chair. "If anything, I should be thanking _you. _I can't believe I lashed out on you like that."

"It was an accident. They happen," she smiled dismissively. "But, I think you owe Adam an apology. He was confused for the most part of your relationship, to say the least."

"I do," Fiona sighed heavily. "He's a good guy, he is. I just hope I don't lose him as a friend."

Clare patted her hand. "He'll forgive you, Fiona. Don't worry."

She screwed her lips to the side, neither skeptical nor certain of the fact. "I don't know about that. But I'll just hope for the best."

Clare nodded understandingly, offering her another warm, supportive smile.

"Stop it, Clare," Fiona suddenly groaned, pulling away from her.

She crinkled her eyebrows together. "Wha- did I do something wrong?"

"No, you're being too nice!" Fiona shook her head, slamming the first aid kit shut. "I mean, I was totally awful to you before-"

"It's fine, Fiona. I understand that you have stuff to deal with. I can't imagine it being easy to anyone, coming out to everyone and all."

"You're actually the first person to know," she mumbled.

"I-oh."

"Oh gosh, Clare, I can't keep this inside any longer," Fiona moaned, burying her face in her hands. "This whole thing has just been building inside me for the longest time, and I-I feel like I'm going to explode if I keep keeping this a secret. There's just so much drama, so much conflict and I wish everything would just work out on its own but I don't think I can ever see that happening. And it's all because of a crazy school-girl crush, and because of someone falling in love with the wrong person and the whole thing is just screwing everything and everyone over! I mean, I totally tried to play matchmaker for them both, but instead I found myself falling deeper and deeper into an abyss of no return and it doesn't even matter because she's in love with him but he's not showing any signs of letting up because he's too infatuated with another girl who I don't know two shits about!"

Taken aback by the sudden urgency in her extemporaneous rant and her uncharacteristic use of profanity, it took Clare a second to scramble for the right reaction. She settled for passiveness, feeling quite unsure of herself- Lord, it was no wonder Fiona and Eli were able to maintain such a friendship. They shared a common skill of passionate extemporaneous speeches.

"I have feelings for Imogen," Fiona whined, rubbing her temples with as much pressure as she could muster. "But Imogen is totally in love with Eli. And Eli's probably smitten with you. Do you see the problem here?"

"I….what?" Clare hadn't meant to come off as dim-witted, but that indeed was what it sounded like. "Imogen likes Eli?"

"A whole lot," Fiona confirmed with a grave nod, appearing to not like this fact as much as Clare did. "And she _always, _gets her way."

Her stomach dropped to her feet, splattering across the ground and leaving an ugly mess for her to figure out how to clean up. Her mind raced, fueled with thoughts provoked by her poor perception of herself- Imogen, despite being undoubtedly idiosyncratic and sometimes plain creepy, exuded an air of mystery that someone like Eli may find alluring. After all, he was quite inexplicable himself, fitting into no specific stereotype. What if his attraction to Clare was a short-lived, hormone-powered type of thing? What if all long, what they had wasn't the epic love story she'd been starting to believe it to be? Maybe not now, maybe not in a few days, but what if in time, she bored him with her constant vigilance, prudence, and perhaps pureness? Eli was like a thrilling roller coaster ride, her the toned-down merry-go-round. There was no way they would work- they were worlds apart in terms of personality and character.

Not to mention, Imogen very pretty. So graceful, so lithe, so _capable _of matching Eli's extra edge. Standing side-by-side, they'd probably look more like a couple than Eli and she ever would.

"Oh no," Fiona said, scrutinizing Clare. "I know what you're thinking now Clare."

"I don't think you ever really liked me near Eli in the first place," she said softly, looking down at her feet.

"No, Clare, listen. I only wanted you to stay away because I knew Imogen liked Eli. I thought that if I distracted myself by playing a little match-maker… Ugh I know this sounds stupid, but it sounded completely appropriate at the time," she mumbled, more and more frazzled by the second.

"Why didn't you try pursuing her?" Clare asked, her mind drifting away. She as only half-listening at this point, much too occupied with slightly different matters.

"'Hey Imogen, do you like girls? 'Cause if you do, I know someone who you'd be _perfect _with.'" She lazily flicked both index fingers towards herself, sarcasm dripping heavily in her voice.

"Imogen is quite different, if you haven't noticed. She could be bisexual, for all you know."

"I know you're still thinking about that," Fiona shot at her, folding her arms across her chest. She narrowed her eyes accusingly. "It bothers me that you're so doubtful of Eli's affections for you."

"I'm sorry," Clare said dully. "It's just- I don't know. I just feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. What I do not only affects myself, but you, Imogen, and Eli. It's a bit overwhelming." A lot overwhelming for one night, in addition to everything Eli dumped on her a mere two hours ago. Before his existence was even a known fact to her, Clare's life had never been half as complicated.

"Love's like that, isn't it?" Fiona said sagely.

A thoughtful silence enveloped them, and Clare had been the first one to break it.

"I think...now would be a good time to face Eli," she whispered, struggling to get on her feet. Fiona instinctively reached out to help her, but Clare just shook her away.

"I guess I'll go apologize to Adam now," Fiona sighed reluctantly, following her lead. Then without warning, she reached out and seized her wrist, a fearful look on her face. "You won't tell anyone about this will you? Because I'll have you know that I'm perfectly capable of ruining you in every way possible."

Clare wriggled out of her grip, a little irritated by her futile threat . "I'm not that kind of person."

"I just spilled everything, Clare, so forgive me for being a little cautious," she rationalized. "And I don't know you well enough to know that."

"She isn't, Fi," a cold voice said.

"Eli," Clare widened her eyes, taking in his sudden presence. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to hear what I needed to hear," he said curtly, the icy inflection in his tone completely menacing. He was leaning relaxed against the door, arms crossed over his chest in a casual stance. How he even got in without either of them hearing remained a mystery, but that was the least of Clare's concerns.

"Eavesdropper!" Fiona hissed, more angry than ashamed to be caught. "What did you hear?"

But Eli just ignored her, not even bothering to spare a glance in her direction. He strode silently towards Clare and gently took both her hands in his, gazing intensely into her eyes. The greenness in his orbs were full of promise, full of reason, and they were so passionate, Clare couldn't bring herself to look away.

"I don't want you to think that there's something going on between Imogen and me," he said lowly. The burning ardency in him lit up brighter than any firework, and burst of flame. The deep-seated care and concern was so heavily directed towards her, it was nothing like the lighthearted, butterflies- kind of feelings he usually exuded around her. No, it was full of need and intensity, something Clare wasn't sure she could reciprocate. "It's all about you, Clare."

"Did you hear what I said?" Fiona asked impatiently, trying to bring attention to her existence.

A snarl escaped his lips, and he was close enough so that Clare could see every muscle, straining to produce such an intimidating scowl.

"I can't believe you tried to push Imogen and I together like that," he growled, grip tightening on Clare's hands. "That's the more selfish thing you've ever done- and that's saying a lot."

"You can't be mad at me for trying to make something so blatantly obvious work!" Fiona fired back. "Imogen _likes _you, and I was just helping her out! Tell me how that is in any way selfish!"

"Please," Eli snorted resentfully. "You only pushed so hard to bury away your feelings for her."

"It's not like I hurt anyone or anything," she snapped, face turning red from anger.

"Well, since we're on that topic, you hurt Clare," he spat, glaring viciously at her.

"It was an accident!"

"_You freaking threw a glass cup at her_!" he seethed, voice rising dangerously.

"Like you have the most self-control, Goldsworthy," Fiona spat through her teeth. Something flashed across Eli's eyes, and Clare knew at once that they weren't treading perilous waters anymore- they were sinking in it, and fast.

"Fiona," she said in a near mute voice, unable to produce much more of a sound, she went unheard of by the two, who were far too busy throwing poisonous looks at one another. "Stop it, please."

"Don't go there."

"Is that a threat?" Fiona inquired sardonically, baby blue eyes blazing with infuriation. Her whole frame was quivering uncontrollably now, mirroring Eli's continuous shaking. "You _know _you're unstable, Eli. You _know _you're-"

"Shut up!" he screamed, fists clenching with insuperable force.

"You know you're bipolar!" Fiona yelled over him.

"Eli, you're hurting me," Clare whispered, choking back tears. His vice-tight grip was crushing her bones so hard, she lost complete feeling in her hands. She tried to wiggle free, but all to no avail. Eli wasn't paying any attention to her. The monster inside him had taken over, blocking out everything and anything rational desperately trying to hold him back.

He was fading straight to an abyss, taking her with him.

Suddenly cognizant of the fury building dangerously inside him, something inside of Fiona must have snapped. There was realization in her eyes. She had taken things too far.

"I-Eli, I didn't m-mean it that way…"

"Get the fuck out of my house," he said a low, deadly voice. Now convulsing harder and harder, he was precariously dangling off the cliff of sanity, and poor Clare was held prisoner.

"I'm sorry," Fiona gasped, remorse flooding her facial features.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" he roared, whipping around and shoving the door open. Clare let out a yelp as she was violently tugged over, losing her footing as she did. She was now leaning against Eli for the sake of remaining on her feet, whether she liked it or not.

"Sorry," Fiona croaked, wiping her tears and running out the door without another word. The sound of her coat being pulled off the rack was heard in the scary-dead silence, followed by the slam of the front door. She had taken off, leaving all her bags behind.

"Clare!" Adam called, rushing to the kitchen immediately after the slam. He quickly zeroed in Eli's state, a panic-stricken expression painted on his face.

"Adam!" Clare tried to say, but what sounded like a hoarse whisper came out of her mouth instead. "W-where are his parents?"

"There's no one home but damn it Eli, _what_ are you doing?" He hurried over, and after many strenuous tries, was able unhook his fingers. As soon as she was free, Clare fled Eli's side as fast as her poop feet would let her. With a gasp, she jumped into Adam's arms, struggling to adjust herself so that she was safely hidden behind him.

"Calm, Eli," Clare said, sounding utterly frightened.

"Are you okay?" he croaked, taking a step towards her. The anger had extinguished in a heartbeat, replaced with a deep-seated penitence that completely baffled her.

"You're sick," she whispered, clutching onto the collar of Adam's shirt.

"I-I told you, I have these panic attack sometimes-"

"A doctor, Eli," she said, gazing fearfully at him. "A therapist."

"I'm not a psychopath, Clare," he joked weakly, trying to grin. The smile looked mangled on his white, sweaty face. He tried to reach out and take her hand again, but she shrank back, latching onto Adam for dear life.

"Come on, I'll get Drew to drive us home," Adam murmured in her ear, making sure to keep careful distance from Eli and both of them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, chest heaving up and down rapidly.

"No," Clare choked. "You scare me, Eli. I don't even know who are! Ask Cece and Bullfrog to take you, please Eli."

"Come," Adam nudged her gently, urging her to start moving.

"Oh God, nooo…" Eli whimpered, falling onto his knees. He curled up into a fetal position, his hands hiding his face. "Oh God," he said again and again, writhing uncontrollably.

"Oh my God," Clare gasped. This situation as all too familiar.

"What are you doing?" Adam asked in alarm, watching Clare try to limp over to him.

"Someone needs to hold him," she whispered shrilly, collapsing onto the floor when limping failed her. Her knees cried out in pain when they made contact with the hard ground, but her terror made it easy to ignore- her focus was only directed towards the broken boy slowly veering off to a dark, hazardous path he had been on one too many times before. She crawled, panting deeply as her arms ached with every pump. Now closer, his distress state appeared much more severe than it had from a distance, and so she didn't hesitate to take him in her arms. It all came to her naturally, as if she had done it many times as opposed to the one time in the abandoned church. She immediately stretched out her legs and inched closer to him, taking his head delicately onto her lap. Tugging his fingers loose from his face, pushing the sweaty strands of hair out of his eyes and then softly stroking his cheek, Clare did everything she could to subdue his violent muscle spasm.

"Oh God oh God," he whimpered again and again, pushing into Clare's abdomen with loud, frantic breaths. His legs were still clamped together, and his knees remained pulled up to his torso.

"Shh," she hushed shakily, caressing his face with trembling fingers. "Shh, relax Eli, it'll be okay."

"OH GOD!" he cried, burying himself deeply into her.

"Shh," she tried to coax. "Just c-close your eyes… _Just close your e-eyes, you'll be alright. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe, and, sound._"

"It's working," Adam said from what seemed like millions of light years away. "Keep it up, Clare! I'll go call him right!"

She nodded ever so slightly." _Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire. The war outside your door keeps raging on…"_

She sang softly and sweetly, endeavouring to match the tune as well as she could. And miraculously, his heartbeat was no longer as erratic as it had been in the beginning, nor was his breathing completely out of whack. The anxiety was simmering down considerably, and Clare took a second to let out a sigh of relief before continuing. "_Hold on, to this, lullaby…even when the music's gone."_

"Oh God," he whispered once last time. His eyelids lifted up slowly, the calamity washing over him like a green wave.

"You know Fiona's struggling with her sexuality," Clare said hastily, clearing the air before he could start. "She wasn't trying to hurt anyone, please forgive her. Please don't be mad anymore, she's terribly sorry, and she'd do anything to atone for her horrible behaviour now. The glass was an accident, please understand."

"I was so scared," he said a small voice, gazing sorrowfully at her.

"What were you afraid of, Eli?" she asked gently, drawing large circles on his cheek.

"I watched her hurt you, and that kind of set something off." He didn't seem so frightening anymore. On the contrary, he looked very vulnerable, like a little boy in the aftermath of a traumatic event.

"I'm okay now," she reassured him, lifting him up slightly so that she was holding his head to her chest. His arms weakly wound around her, as a shudder rippled through him.

"I don't like Imogen," he said blatantly, bleakly. "Don't be worried about her,"

Clare pulled back, searching profoundly into his wet eyes. "Okay," she breathed.

It was a while before he spoke again; his ear was pressed up again her heart, and he had been too preoccupied with listening to her heartbeat. "I'm not crazy."

"No," Clare said at once. "You're sick."

"Are you…scared of me?"

Her first instinct was to lie. To say that she wasn't, and that she could never be afraid of him. But something in Eli's voice made it known to her that he already had gathered up enough evidence to answer his own question.

"When you're not well, you do," she admitted.

"Are you…going to leave me?"

"I don't want to," she answered as honestly as she could.

"I'll do it, Clare," he said firmly, a little bit quivery, but firmly. "Whatever it takes to make you stay."

He settled into the crook of her neck, his exhausted body lying limp against her tired one. Poor Eli was so worn out, Clare just rested on the top of his head instead of taking off right away. She pressed her lips against his hair, feeling the warmth of their body merging together and creating a tangible veil of heat between them.

She could barely remember the rest of the night after that, as the ride home and departure of his house was nothing but a big blur in the back of her mind. And for the next few days, she slept, making no attempt to do anything else.

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><p><strong>AN : I have the next chapter written up right now, so let's make a deal okay? Okay. :)**

** The next time I'll check my email is this Sunday, so if this story reaches 140 reviews by then, I'll upload by Sunday night. If not, than I'll probably get around it next Friday. Is that okay with you guys? :D**


	23. Chapter 23

**You guys are just fantastic. :) Your support for this story is just incredible.**

**So like I promised, here's chapter 23. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Eli: <strong>

"Hello Elijah, it's been a while."

The therapist room was eerie- always a little too tidy and proper, with a distinct potpourri scent that stung his nose. Even when he breathed through his mouth, the scent would find a way to invade his sense of smell, trying to evoke an irritate gruff out of him. His clothes would reek of the miscellaneous mixture when he returned home, giving him no choice but to shower again in the evening.

"Dr. Sadler," he greeted curtly, stiffly seating himself on the hard leather bed. "Mom, dad, you don't have to be here."

"Nonsense," Cece shot him down immediately, adjusting her purse so that is was wedged between her and Bullfrog.

"Boy, you came to us out of nowhere wanting to see a therapist- we can't help but feel a little alarmed. We thought you'd been doing well," Bullfrog said sternly.

"Elijah, tell me what caused this sudden decision," Dr. Sadler said placidly. Her salt-and-pepper hair was tucked into a neat bun, and her thick-framed glasses were always sliding off her nose. Dr. Sadler never seemed to have any emotion- if she was capable of feeling remotely anything, than she did a damn good job at hiding it.

"Mom, dad, please," he pleaded, exasperated by his parent's presence. "This is personal."

"Eli-"

"Perhaps," Dr. Sadler interrupted, "it is best for your two to wait outside. We don't want Elijah to be editing any of his thoughts and feelings, now would we?"

They looked incredibly reluctant to oblige, but stood up nonetheless. Cece squeezed his hand, giving Eli an uneasy smile before exiting out the door with Bullfrog at her heel.

"So Mr. Goldsworthy, your records here tell me that you spent the last year or so grieving over the lost of your last girlfriend- how is that coming along?"

He winced inwardly at the casual reference of what could be the most traumatic time of his life, flashing back his earlier sessions in this very room. The dent he made on the wall was still there from the time he lashed out and threw a wooden chair, and the stain on the carpet from when he knocked down Dr. Sadler's coffee remained visible at his feet. A year and a half ago marked the beginning of the dark ages, when he was literally a volatile, living zombie who without any warning alternated between an extremely livid state of being, to incessant runs of severe lamentation. The switching was almost always uncalled for, flipping from side to side without an apparent trigger. The frightened, helpless look on his parents' faces every time he raged at them, how his mother would cower to the side while his dad tried to calm him down- it burned a hole in heart every time he thought about it, even though he was no longer a constantly unstable, mourning monster who didn't nothing but hurt anyone who tried to help him. He had come a long way.

But given that he was here again, he hadn't come long enough.

"I still have nightmares about her every now and again, but it's been getting a lot better than it used to be," he said, twiddling his thumbs. "Honestly, I haven't really thought about her for the past while."

"And your diet?" Dr. Sadler pressed, hand flying across the page. "Have you been eating well?

"Yeah."

"Any panic attacks? Or lashing out in anger?"

Eli looked down at his hands, staring hard at the veins pulsating and popping out of his skin. "They're happening."

"Uh huh. Tell me about your most recent one."

He exhaled deeply, unwilling as hell to relive that night again. So much wonderful progress was made, so many blissful events took place- all of which came crashing down on him sooner than he could fully appreciate it.

"Can I tell you about the previous one first?" he asked.

"By all means, go ahead."

"That time, it was kind of related to Julia-"

"Had it been to linked to any feelings of guilt? Remorse? Or had it been angry?"

"Guilt," he answered at once.

"What else was there?"

"I felt…unworthy. Like I was a burden, that I deserved to feel this way," he swallowed.

"Was anybody there with you at the time?" As he glanced to peek at her page, he saw that it was already filled to the bottom with nearly unreadable writing. Apparently, what he said was more useful than he thought.

"Yes, there was this girl- Clare." Her name choked him with a numb sensation, burning a hole in the back of his throat. "S-she saved me."

"Could you elaborate, please?"

"I don't know how she did it, but one minute I was being pulled into the darkness, the next I'm-"He took in a quivery breath, closing his eyes. The feeling of Clare felt so far away now. "The next I'm being held in her arms. I started to calm down a bit then. She started to sing softly to me, and I felt like I stopped sinking altogether."

"I see," Dr. Sadler pursed her lips sagely. "Was this girl Clare there the second time?"

"She was," he nodded.

"Was this attack anger-based, or were you anxious?"

"There was a big fight, and things got out of hand. The anger kept escalating, and I-I snapped." His face contorted into a grimace. He hated how little control he had over his own emotions- _his own freaking emotions, damn it. _His grip on them was as loose as his hold on Clare. "I said some pretty nasty stuff to Fiona because of an incident that took place a half hour before the argument."

"What did she do?"

"She was having some problems regarding her boyfriend- well, ex, now- and her sexuality, I presume. And by accident, she smashed a glass cup, and it cut Clare pretty bad."

"Oh," she drawled knowingly, nodding. She prodded Eli to continue with a slow nod.

"Um." What did he say?

"Is that what caused anger?"

"Yes, she hurt Clare-"

"What happened after that?"

"Adam and I were starting to fix her up, but then Fiona volunteered to do it. She said that she had taken some classes, and Clare agreed."

"Uh huh. How did you feel about that?" she inquired.

"Betrayed," he said immediately. "Furious at Fiona for hurting her in the first place, furious that she couldn't just step away and let me handle it."

"Were your feelings hurt? She queried, never once making eye contact with him.

"I- yeah, I guess so."

"And it was because you felt that Clare was choosing her over you. Like she didn't need you," Dr. Sadler surmised.

Eli was taken aback. How she had described was he truly felt was so accurate, so spot-on.

"Um." He gaped at her.

"Did Clare save you again?"

"Yeah, she did. Which was surprising, considering…considering how much I scared her."

"You think you frighten her?"

"I know I do," he said grimly, balling his hands into weak fists on his lap. "You should have seen her eyes- my erratic behaviour must have scarred her for life."

"But she saved you," Dr. Sadler mused. "She held you, and she sang to you again?"

Eli nodded.

"How long did it take for you to calm down completely, the time before and the most recent one?"

"Not…long. Maybe a few minutes?"

"Interesting," she said broodingly. "As I recall, your panic attacks used to last for quite some time longer. Does Clare make you feel safe, perhaps? Does she give you a sense of security?"

"She's the only thing that makes me feel…like I could ever get better," he answered ardently, smiling softly to himself. "But she's so delicate and innocent. I'm afraid I'm going to taint her purity, that I'm going to ruin her."

"Does Clare have anything to do with why you're here?"

"Yes," he whispered, bowing his head. "She wants me to do this, more than anything. Clare wants me to get better, so I'm going to."

"Do you love her?" she asked in a matter-of-fact tone. The question sent his heart flopping up and down like a fish out of water, and he could almost feel his face heat up a bit. "You're so determined to do this, Elijah. I've never seen a patient as determined as yourself. Coming back after everything that happened the past year, the fact that she able to fend off your inner demons and stay by your side not once, but twice during your darkest hour- it's not completely irrational to feel this way about her."

"Clare is incredibly kind and loyal," Eli closed his eyes, trying to feel her in his mind. "She's patient, extremely forgiving- even after all the times I've acted like a complete ass around her, even when I read her journal. She's the only one who chases after me to make sure I'm okay, and puts up with all my crap. She's incredibly timid and awkward at times, but she knows what she believes in and refuses to change for anyone."

"Well," Dr. Sadler said.

Eli smiled a small smile to himself. "She's also very pretty, but I don't think she'll ever believe me if I tell her."

"You love her," she stated simply, causing Eli to bow his head down even further. "And it sounds to me that most of the lamentation from Julia's death is over for the most part. It's the self-loathing and guilt that's the main issue here, Elijah."

"I don't want to lose her," he said in a small voice. "But at the same time, I feel like I don't deserve her."

"From what I gather, you seem to be doing well otherwise. Nobody is perfect, Elijah, and in time you will have to accept that."

"How do I stop myself from losing control?" he almost pleaded.

"You have an illness, so I cannot say that you will have full control over yourself within the near future," she said pragmatically, lowering her think stack of paper. She adjusted her glasses. "But I can tell you that taking your medication again would be okay. I assume you already stopped using them a while ago, have you not?"

"There's another half bottle sitting my cupboard at home," Eli said warily, not at all pleased with the prospects of having to take his pills again. But if it meant getting better for Clare, than he'd just have to deal with it.

"Once daily should be fine. If you have any more troubles, don't hesitate to schedule another meeting with me, alright?" He took the cue to stand up, shaking her hand courteously after she followed him.

"Thanks, Dr. Sadler," he said gratefully, pausing at the door. "Do you think I should call Clare now, or…?"

"Give her some time and space- she'll need some if you want her to take this all in."

"Hmm," he screwed his lips to the side. "I guess in the meantime, I owe someone else an apology."

**Clare: **

_I used to have a handle on life, but then it broke the second Eli's eyes bored into mine. Just like that, __rationality__ started to drift away from my grasp. Limitations and border lines were reduced to blurry mirages floating somewhere far in the horizon. And I tell myself, it's not too late to bail. I can take off, disappear, eradicate his name from my brain and start over. Then I'd be able to fall back in the same routines, and reconnect with logic once again._

_I can see how this would benefit me in the best way possible. Far away from Eli's unpredictable outbursts, his erratic mood swings and impenetrable gaze that sends my mind off in a hazy fog. When I see him convulsing like he hasn't the slightest grip on reality and muttering unintelligible things over and over again, my heart breaks and breaks. And when he's suddenly livid and cursing loudly at people he claims to care for, my instinctive drive to flee kicks in and I'm scared._

_But I know I'm rooted to the ground without a doubt, so I don't bother with thinking of ways to escape anymore. I've thought of something else, something that I've been building up to since the first of January. And if you're wondering, I watched the clock shift from eleven-fifty-nine of twelve am at home, in my bedroom. Numb everywhere but my eyes, which were strained from staring at the clock. It had been an intense night for everyone around- Adam, Fiona, myself, and surely Eli. I have to make a note to apologize to Bullfrog and Cece for my abrupt departure the other night, but I've procrastinated with reluctance to face Eli just yet like the coward I am._

"Clare! You're going to be late for school!"

Sticking in her journal and swinging her bag over her shoulder, she took a moment to briefly glance at her reflection. Everything looked fine- her hair was bouncy and gleaming with auburn streaks that were emphasized by the white sunlight streaming in her bedside window. The dark rings under her eyes were faint, nowhere near as prominent as they had been the past few nights. How deceiving the outer appearance really is.

She descended the stairs, grabbing a granola bar on the way out. She was famished, but had decided that anything was better than facing an interrogation from her mother at the kitchen table. Her behaviour for the last week of break had been unusually gloomy, and it was sure to go unnoticed by her mother.

"Do you want a ride?" she offered.

"I think I'm going to walk today," Clare said, faking a smile. She needed all the time in the world to compose herself before a face-to-face with _him._

"Hey," Adam greeted, waving lazily to her. "So how are you holding up?"

Clare slowly dialed her lock combo, as if stalling for an acceptable answer. "Better," she answered evasively, proceeding to put away all her unneeded textbooks for the first two periods of class. "He hasn't made an attempt to talk to me all week."

"Maybe that's a good thing," he said encouragingly, pressing his lips together.

"What does that even mean?" Clare narrowed her eyes, gnawing on her lip.

"I don't know," he sighed. "It just seems like all this guy's done is mess you up. I've never seen you so distraught before, and given the excellent show he put on…" He paused. "I don't mean to come off as hard and judgemental, but I really don't think Eli's anything but bad news."

"I understand what you're saying," Clare said quietly. "But…"

"But…?" He furrowed his brows. "What is it?"

"But…let me ask you something, Adam. Does Drew by any chance, drink?"

His eyebrow arched in confusion. "No, I don't think he does. Why?"

"No reason," she murmured. "So um, how and you and Fiona doing?"

"Pretty good, actually. She doesn't seem too mad anymore, with the Eli thing and us and all, which is kind of a surprise," he answered with a slight grin, starting to stroll away. Clare followed suite, trying to slow down their already snail-like pace. Anything to prolong what little composure time she had left. English class was first on the agenda, and was nowhere near ready to face him. Every step took her closer to her impending demise, and her foot moved almost robotically towards their destination. Adam's voice began to drone from somewhere far away, and for a second she feels like she's going to pass out. A few more steps and-

Empty.

His seat is empty.

Relief should be the first thing she should feel. But on the contrary, her chest tightens and clenches in distress, yearning for the reassurance that only his presence can provide her with. Like a three-sixty turn, her desire to avoid Eli turns into a need to see him. What if something terrible had happened to him, and she wasn't there to hold him and tell him it's okay? Her pulse quickens with fear, and it's not until Adam nudges her that she realizes she blocking all the other students trying to get inside.

"He's not here," Adam noted, tugging on her sleeve and dragging her to her seat. He plopped down beside her, craning his neck.

"Adam, what if something happens to him?" Clare asked in a worried tone, glancing scanning the room. "It's all my fault!"

"Calm down Clare, it's not your fault," Adam said in an undertone. "He could have just slept in."

"That doesn't sound like him," she whispered.

"Class, I hope you all had a wonderful winter break," Ms. Dawes said, clasping her hands together. "I also hope you haven't put your creative spirit to hibernate over the holiday, either, because you are going to be starting something a little different. I- oh, Mr. Goldsworthy. Kind of you to grace us with your attendance."

Sure enough came Eli striding in through the door, hair sticking up in strange directions and shirt on backwards. A silly giggle threatened to erupt from Clare's lips, and she found it ridiculous how she was able to bounce from emotion to emotion just like that. The anxiety, though still tarrying somewhere in the pits of her stomach, had simmered down considerably since she had registered his presence. Her shoulders relaxed form its tense state, and she gave Adam a smile of relief. He nodded back in return, but didn't look too pleased.

"Sorry Ms. Dawes, I slept in," he apologized in a breath, manoeuvring his way through the rows of desks and backpacks straps sprawled on the floor.

"What did I tell you?" Adam whispered, feigning smugness. The uneasiness didn't completely erase from his facial features, Clare noticed.

"Maybe I'm overreacting a bit," she murmured.

"So, are you going to go talk to him?"

"It's not that simple. I don't even know if he went to therapy in the first place- I haven't spoken to him in such a long time."

"So you're scared again," Adam said pragmatically, tossing his pen up in the air and catching it easily.

"You don't seem particularly upset about that," Clare merged her brows together.

Adam glanced around, pressing his lips together before focusing on her again. "I just don't want you to get hurt. More than you've already been."

"I think it's a little too late for that, don't you think? Clare smiled ruefully.


	24. Chapter 24

**Frostival was just perfection.**

**like cotton candy and cauliflower soup will never look the same again because otp**

**I feel my tumblr (ishrinkingviolet . tumblr . com) slowly transforming into an eclare blog and**

**what is coherence **

**just**

**enjoy**

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><p><strong>Eli: <strong>

"Hi, Clare," he greeted softly, careful not to frighten her. "Can I talk to you?"

She scrunched her shoulders together, glancing at Adam for approval. He sighed, looking reluctant to oblige.

"Just for a little while," he promised.

"I'll see in the caf," Adam murmured through gritted teeth, turning on his heel to give the two some privacy. As soon as he was out of the earshot, Eli gently cupped her elbow, leading her outside to the picnic tables. She didn't protest, and he took this as a green light-however, he was extra careful not to tug her too hard, or make her feel like she was compelled to follow him. Careful, careful, careful with her.

After making sure she was seated comfortably on one side of the bench, he made his way to the other side and sat down across from her. Clasping his hands in front of him, he perused her with a calculating expression on his face. She looked good- curls in place, complexion as glowy and luminous as ever, and a similar impassive look worn on her pretty face. He didn't seem to have messed her up too badly, and again, he took this in stride.

"I talked to my therapist during the break," he began serenely, tilting her head to the side.

Clare cocked her head to the side as well, jutting out her lower lip. She nodded, prodding him to continue.

Eli dug into his bag, pulling out a small white bottle with a prescription taped across the front. Setting it slowly on the table, he scrutinized her more observantly now, watching for any flickers of emotion. "She gave me these."

"What are they?" she asked curiously, squinting at the small print.

"Anti-anxiety pills. I just pop one of these suckers in my mouth everyday for the next while, and within a few weeks or so I'll probably have a better handle on myself," he explained.

"Are they working?" she inquired, rolling the bottle on her hand.

"Seems to be. I've been feeling a lot more stable the past few days."

"Hmm," she mused, neither skeptical nor convinced.

"But the update isn't the reason why I'm talking to you," he said, searching her eyes. "I wanted to thank you, Clare."

"What did I do?" she asked softly, genuinely inquisitive.

"A lot of things," he said expressively, smiling appreciatively at her. "You saved me, in every way a person can be saved. You stood by me when I was going through the hardest time, you helped me find my way, you accepted me, baggage and all, and you made me feel things I never thought I'd be able to feel again. It's because of you that I found the motivation and strength to find professional help once more, and it's because of you that I'm going to be okay again."

She twiddled her thumb, looking as if she was putting together her thoughts. Her little curls fluttered in the slight breeze, and Eli thought in his head that she had never looked more breathtaking.

"Are you really going to be okay again?" She murmured.

"In the long run- like I said, it'd probably be a while before things start to fall into place for me."

"You're going to work hard at it." It wasn't a question, nor was it really a statement.

"Harder than anything in my life. I don't want to scare you anymore- or myself, for that matter. " he deadpanned, face softening when he noticed a thin, film forming in her gorgeous blue eyes. He panicked for a minute, quickly going over what he had said- _did I do something wrong_?

"Oh, Eli," she whispered, wiping away a stray tear from her eye. And before he could form a proper apology, a sudden weight way was thrown upon him, knocking the breath out of him. It took him a stunned minute to realize that Clare had all but pounced on him, arms wrapped feverishly around his neck and face burrowed in the crook of his neck.

"Whoa," he chuckled, deeply inhaling her scent.

"You have no idea how much I hoped you would be able to say that," she sniffled, pushing closer against him. "Eli, I stay because I love you! And nothing is going to change that."

His heart, at that moment, palpitated from her words before exploding into millions of tiny confetti pieces.

_This feeling oh my God what is this_

Clare Edwards loved him.

_Oh my heart my chest it's gonna collapse form happiness I can't even_

Clare Edwards loved Elijah Goldsworthy.

_OOOOH MY GOD NO I CAN'T THE EMOTIONS NOOO I REALLY CAN'T_

Clare freaking Edwards loved Elijah fucking Goldsworthy.

"Oh my God Clare, I love you too," he said hoarsely, pushing her face away before smashing his lips against her. At this point, he wasn't sure he was capable of taking in anymore unexpected twists and surprises, given that the girl he was so desperately in love with had just confessed her reciprocated feelings to him- hell, the girl had professed before he had even thought about coming out.

But of course, she had challenged his limitation in every way possible by kissing back with even more fervent, fingers tangled in his unkempt hair and chest pressed against his. Their first kiss had been so gentle and contained, and this- there was no way this was Clare's second time doing it. The way their lips molded together exuded not only the bright electrical sparks that came with young love, but also a sense a neediness that emitted from them both. No, it wasn't the desperate, clingy type of neediness that had frightened them both so much. It was the insatiable desire to be interconnected in every way possible. And the fact that it had happened so spontaneously and unexpectedly gave little to no time for either of them to adjust. Most of the fiery beauty came from the reckless, spur-of-the-moment lustre.

They kissed once, twice, three times, breaking off roughly before diving right into each other's faces again and again. Their gasps of air were so loud, but never embarrassing; all they were focused on is the ardency emanating between their bodies, heating up the entire atmosphere around them. At one point, Eli had lifted her off the ground and onto his lap, fingers fumbling to push her further into him. Her legs found a way to wound around his waist, and as she moved, she elicited a deep primal sound from his throat. The pleasure built up in that moment was so overwhelming, Eli had to pull away before he lost it completely.

When he opened his eyes for the first time since their lips were connected, he was seeing stars.

"You look flustered," she gasped between her loud breathing, twirling her fingers in his strands of hair. She gingerly touched his forehead with hers.

"Can y-you give me a minute?" he croaked, gently taking her off his lap. She furrowed her brows.

"Are you okay?" she inquired worriedly as Eli brushed his damp hair out of his face.

"Better than okay," he said huskily, trying to steady his breathing. The tiniest hint of a smirk crept up his face. "Clare Edwards, I had no idea what a feisty kisser you are."

She bowed her head a little, the faint pink blush on her cheeks slowly deepening into a nice scarlet shade.

"You just overwhelm in the best way possible," he smiled, taking her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers.

She smiled back. "Good."

_**Seven days plus**_

"Are you sure you're ready to do this?" Eli murmured lowly in Clare's ear, planting a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. Peering through his eyelashes, he casted a penetrating gaze through the obscure film of deceit she wore on her eyes, trying to break down the barrier. Her crystal orbs glanced everywhere but at him, but the second she found his eyes, he could see the walls slowly dissolving into a pool of nervousness. She gnawed on her lower lip, evidently fearful for the potentially sticky situation.

"No," she answered honestly, allowing him to place more delicate kisses on her hand. Eli couldn't help but smirk when she shivered at his touch, and squeezed her wrist lightly in comfort. "But we can do this. I know we can. I'm just…not sure what to expect."

Leaning back on his seat without releasing her arm, Eli twisted his neck so that he would be facing Clare. "Well, I'd like to say that we have all the time in the world, but we're currently outside his house, so I don't think we can stay out here too long."

Lolling her head out over the top of the headrest, Clare turned so that she was facing him as well.

"Promise me that you'll be open about this," she said quietly, drawing random shapes on his hand in turn. Her fingers had a feathery touch, hovering over his skin whilst brushing over it in the lightest way.

"I'll do my best," he promised earnestly, leaning forward to kiss her before they got out of the car.

"I have an idea," she said, stopping his lips with her dainty finger. A bright smile suddenly lit up on her face, lighting up in the midst of cloudy darkness.

"This should be interesting," Eli smirked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh, pretend to be the least bit excited for me," Clare chided in a playful pleading matter, tilting her head to her shoulder.

"What is it, Clare?"

"I know that the minute we get in there, you're going to be indiscreetly throwing dirty scowls at Drew."

Eli raised his hand lazily in the air. "Guilty."

"So I'm going to be counting how many you make the entire time we're there. And if you manage to stay nice to him all the way through, I'll give you whatever you want," she said.

Eli immediately sat up." _Whatever,_ I want?" he clarified.

"Lunch for a week, homework help- you name it."

He tapped on his chin, making sure to carefully run through all his options. When an idea came into mind, his lips twitched, and he fought to stifle an impish grin. "What if I want… a ten minute make-out session?"

"I'll have to question your stamina on that, Goldsworthy," Clare raised her eyebrows, face remaining neutral.

"Perhaps in our underwear?"

"Now you're pushing it," Clare rolled her eyes, turning away from him. Probably to hide another blush.

"But seriously, Clare? A ten minute make-out session if I don't glare at him?" Eli asked excitedly, now smiling like a two-year old promised ice-cream.

"Oh, so _now _you're excited."

"At the prospects of making out with my- wait, so what are you, exactly?" he jutted out his lower lip, looking questioningly at her.

"What do you want me to be?" she asked, looking back at him innocently.

"I don't know, what do _you _want to be?" he shot back, just as angelically.

"I want to be an elephant," Clare answered perkily, eyes sparkly animatedly. Eli threw his head back in loud laughter, doubling over when she added a 'like this', and made a long drawing motion coming out of her nose. Lost in sheer blissfulness, he was unaware of when his knees shot up, accidently slamming against Morty's horn. Clare jumped a foot in the air when a nosy beep sounded through his steering wheel, provoking yet another stream of guffaws from him.

"Oh God," he gasped between chortles. "I can't- oh God."

"Someone's a little giddy today," Clare noted with a giggle, playfully poking his sides. He wasn't usually ticklish, but under certain circumstances, it was enough to send up bouncing out of his seat. "Goodness, Eli, are you high?"

"Whenever I'm with you," he breathed, clutching his aching sides. Finally recovering from the expected laughing fit, he exhaled deeply as fell backwards on his seat again. "Are you really going to make me ask you?"

"You're in no way obligated to," Clare smiled timidly to herself, flattered by Eli's remark. "But it'd be nice."

"Then, Clare Edwards," he began emotionally, placing a warm hand on her knee. His lips twitched, trying to fight another bubble of laughter. "Will you do me the honour of being my girlfriend?"

"Hm," she said broodingly, cocking her head from side to side. "What does that entitle exactly?

"Oh, the usual- making lunch for me, doing my homework," Eli said casually, fingers travelling further up her leg. Clare gulped at his touch, trying hard not to let it show how he was affecting her. Grinning smugly at her, he let his fingers inch up higher, resting it mid-thigh. "Are you nervous Edwards?

"If I say yes will you remove your hand?" she asked in a deliberately slow pace. Eli's grin only widened in hearing the nervous inflection in her voice.

He bent forward, lips caressing the shell of her ear. "Maybe."

"In that case…" she murmured. Out of nowhere, she ripped his hand off her leg and glanced past his head, smiling politely. It happened so fast, Eli didn't have time to register his shock. "Hi, Drew!"

"Hey Clare-bear!" he smiled and waved, propping his elbows up on Morty's window ledge. "Sorry to interrupt your moment of intimacy here, but this hearse of yours has been parked in my driveway for over twenty minutes. So I decided to do a little investigating before my mom comes home."

Grumbling unintelligibly under his breath, he remembered his little deal with Clare. If anything, he was determined to earn those ten-minutes of non-stop kissing, and if it meant resisting the biting urge to throttle the guy, he's do it.

"Drew, you know Eli," Clare said, trying to break the ice.

"Oh yeah. Hey man," he greeted, as if things were completely normal between them. _So either he's as stupid as Eli pegged him to be or he's just faking it. Either sounded possible. _"Why don't you come inside? Grandma Torres came over and brought a batch of homemade cookies."

"And you haven't devoured them all yet?" Clare said skeptically, getting out of the hearse. Eli grudgingly followed suit until they reached the house, his dislike for him already setting in full swing. The smell of his house invaded his sense in the most intrusive way, and he instinctively shifted to Clare's side. He tried to savour her scent before being forced deeper in the distasteful abode.

Drew and Clare were already falling into a light conversation, sharing inside joke and laughing like lifelong friends. His fists clenched and unclenched, and he was desperately endeavouring to keep his cool. It was just so…_ugh,_ seeing Drew and her together and getting along. Knowing that they had been like this way before they met didn't really ease up his discomfort, either.

"So, what brings you two lovebirds over to my pad?" Drew inquired nonchalantly, shoving an entire cookie whole in his mouth. Clare shot Eli a look as if to say _don't do it._

"There's something…I need to ask you," she began hesitantly, as if wracking her brain for the right words.

"Okay," he said, sounding mildly perplexed.

"Uhh. Well, you see…I touched on it a bit with Adam- I'm not sure if he told you already- but I was just wondering about-"

"She wants to know if you were in that driver seat, in that car that killed Julia," Eli said blatantly, unable to prevent all the venom from seeping in. The room was suddenly cold with tension, and Clare looked as if she regretted coming out here in the first place. Eli carefully locked eyes with him, struggling to keep his emotions intact and under wraps. Like Clare, he wasn't sure what to expect, and hoped fervently and desperately that Drew wouldn't lie- that, or, that he was a bad liar. Something, anything to make it known to her that Eli had been telling the truth the entire time.

"Oh," was all he said.

"Did you?" Clare said in a small voice, vigilantly monitoring both his facial expression as well as Eli's.

A painfully long silence followed up before Drew spoke.

"I was drunk that night," Drew started ominously, looking gravely at her. Every bit of humour and happiness that had been etched on his face disappeared all at once, leaving nothing but a bleak canvas. Eli sighed in relief, incredibly glad that what he had feared wasn't coming true.

But then came another dilemma he hadn't considered, and that was having the horrible story retold to him. Truthfully, he hadn't expected him to be so forward, so open about this. This was indeed much more than he had bargained for, and whether he was prepared for all the feelings of that night to come rushing back….

"You wanted Julia," Eli deadpanned. The name felt like acid on his tongue, and it was a sensation that no amount of time or therapy could heal. Sensing his imminent distress, Clare put a gentle hand on his leg, rubbing it reassuringly.

"I did," Drew admitted heavily. "More than anything else."

"But…she was in love with Eli," Clare whispered.

He nodded. "I didn't mean to hurt her- that was the last thing I wanted. You have to believe me, Clare. I-I loved her."

Eli let out a snort, finding the idea absolutely absurd.

"Eli," Clare warned quietly.

"No, he's right. I hadn't exactly been the greatest to her. Not the way Eli was. And when I found out that she had chosen over me, it hit me pretty hard."

"So what did you do?"

"Went to a bar and drank my ass off, that's what," Drew said in a weak attempt to joke. "And as you can see…it didn't turn out so good."

"Oh, Drew," Clare said sympathetically, reaching across the table to pat his hand.

"You're pitying _him?" _Eli said, sounding revolted by the idea.

"Eli, please understand," she pleaded. "He was hurting- he had his heart broken, and couldn't think clearly. You have to-"

"I don't have to do anything," Eli said stubbornly, narrowing his eyes at him.

"I'm sorry, man," Drew apologized penitently. "I know that doesn't do anything, but if I could, I'd turn back in time and take back everything I've done to you both."

"Clare, you're so naïve sometimes!" Eli rolled his eyes, glaring spitefully at Drew. "Heartbreak or not, his stupid mistake costed someone else her life!"

"And if I left you right this very moment because I was in love with Drew, how would you feel?" Clare said, raising her voice slightly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Once again, Clare had put him in a position of where he was left speechless and without a single clue what would be appropriate to say. If Clare left him right here, right now…he wouldn't even know where to begin.

"What's done is done," she stated with a soft air of finality. "And if you keep turning back to look at the past, you'll never be able to move on to the future."

"I'm not asking anything of you, but I just want to know if there's some hope that we'll be cool again," Drew said hopefully, lifting up a hand.

That hand, it did not correspond with the guy who stole his first love away from him. There was a sudden shift in his heart, and what he saw was the truth of Clare's words; he'd been so hell-bent on holding onto every memory of Julia, both bad and good, he hadn't been putting any effort in letting things go. In all honestly, he had probably moved on the second he fell in love with Clare, but now in sight of another opportunity to turn back, he grabbed it without thinking. Without thinking that as easy as it might be to keep the resentment inside of him, he needed to shed a few more things to move forward. Dragging his feet along with pavement wasn't doing anything but scraping the soles of his feet.

So he took his hand, and was sent flying ahead in a brighter, happier future.

**Clare: **

To the Dot they went, after driving aimlessly around the neighbourhood whilst sharing humorous stories and playful banters. The two never seemed to run out of conversation material, and for those odd occasions when neither had anything else to contribute to a fading topic, they fell into a comfortable silence that allowed them to just enjoy each other's company.

As Eli walked around the front, Clare surprised him by taking out her hand. Though taken aback the first second, he didn't hesitate to lace his fingers through hers, a happy smile stretching across his face.

"What do you say about playing those annoying couples who sit side-by-side in an empty booth?" Eli smirked, letting Clare slide in first.

"And imagining the look on Peter's face if he asks us if we're waiting for anyone," Clare laughed, undoing the buttons on her thick winter coat. She began to rub her hands together to form heat through friction, blowing on them for more effect. Eli clicked his tongue and took both her hands in his, cupping them over his mouth. He blew warm puffs on air into them, winking teasingly at her as he did.

"My own personal space heater," she chewed over, touched by the kind gesture. She smiled appreciatively, hardly believing that the wonderful boy before her belong to her- cliché or not, it was like a dream come true.

"It's 'cause I'm hot, hmm?" he grinned.

"If you're hot…does that make me cool?"

"I applaud you for that stunning display of verbal acuity Edwards."

"You should know, your opinion means the world to me."

"And that biting sarcasm warms my black hole of a heart like none other."

"We're so romantic," Clare sighed merrily.

"That we are," he agreed with a playful arching of eyebrows. "Hey, can we get a couple of hot chocolates here?"

"With marshmallows," Clare added, lowering Eli's hands.

"Of course," Eli snorted.

"Coming right up," the waiter said, taking away their menus.

"Just tease me, will you?" she rolled her eyes.

"Aw, Clare, you don't even have to ask me to do that," he stretched his legs out from under the table, taking full-advantage of the lack of occupant on the other side. How he could pull off looking attractive while slumping in such a lazy position, Clare would never know.

"Well, I'm glad we finally tackled that problem with Drew," she said, folding her hands. "One less thing to worry about."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just- we went into this with a lot of complications in our hands," Clare explained briefly. "The conflict with Imogen, before with Fiona, your therapy-"

"You don't think that all of this will be resolved, do you?" he asked suspiciously.

"I don't understand," she crinkled her brows.

"What I'm inferring from you, is that before this relationship can fully work, we need to fix everything first," Eli stated.

"Isn't that true, though?"

He chuckled deeply, perturbing Clare even more than she was already. Eli seemed to be amused by the idea of fixing everything that has been left unresolved for so long. Didn't he want to minimize every possibility of another conflict creation? Didn't he want to makes things work as much as she did. To be fair, this was Clare's very first relationship, so her conception of a functioning relationship might differ from someone who's had a little more experience. Still, didn't it make sense to tackle these things before diving headfirst into it?

"I don't resolving matters is what makes use work, Clare," he said with a soft smile. "While that is part of it, most of it comes from standing by each other when things get tough. No relationship is perfect- I'm not perfect, and I'll force myself to believe that you aren't either. Although, I don't think I've exactly done much for you, but that's a different story."

"That's because I haven't given you a chance to," she said pragmatically. "And I know you'd do the same for me."

"We also see the best in each other when no one else does," Eli whispered, lifting their intertwined hands and pressing his forehead against hers.

"You bring out of the best in me," she said in an undertone, gazing fondly at him before capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

It wasn't long before Eli dropped her hand completely, moving his so that they would snake around her waist. Clare hadn't expected him to react so strongly, and had intended to end it within a matter of seconds. She kept her hands sitting obediently in her lap while Eli held her closer, hoping he would get the message that she wasn't all that much into PDA. But oh, his head may have already evaporated into a thick fog in the same heartbeat they connected, and he was putting a considerable amount of effort in deepening the kiss. His mouth began to pry hers open, his hot breath entering her in a strange, exhilarating new way. Even with her hands strictly to herself, he didn't let it deter him.

Clare shoved his chest before he could get any further, roughly breaking off the kiss.

"Normally, I'd go right ahead and apologize, but you stopped right before it got good," he breathed on her. "I don't think I scowled once at the guy's house the whole time we were there, do you?"

"Oh," she said. She hadn't been prepared to deal with _that _just yet. "No, I don't think you did. Don't…don't tell me you were planning on redeeming it _here_."

"Your hot chocolate," the waiter came waltzing by, setting the two steamy mugs before them. "Enjoy!"

"Thanks," Eli said, watching Clare take a wary sip of her drink before speaking. A hint of a coy smile made its way to his lips, and the way he was looking at her was starting to make her nervous.

"It was uncalled for," she blurted randomly, unable to think clearly under his watchful eyes. Her face heated up when his grin broadened, prompting her to hastily busy herself in another sip.

"I just wanted to see how you would react," he shrugged innocently, wrapping his hands around the warm cup.

"And wanting to kiss me like that added nothing to it?"

He shrugged again. "I got carried away. You can't blame me, can you? You're very kissable."

She narrowed her eyes. "You can be very childish, you know?"

"Is that why you love me?" he asked angelically, drinking his hot chocolate.

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><p><strong>*excuse grammar mistakes <strong>

**otp ruined my will to edit**

**because perfection**


	25. Chapter 25

**Just a few more chapters, and I'll have successfully completed my first multi-chaptered fanfiction story ! *cheercheer***

**Would you believe that my goal in the beginning was to receive 100 reviews? But my mom was like don't be greedy lets just hope for one so**

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><p><strong>Clare: <strong>

"Mom?" she called uncertainly in the seemingly vacant house. The living room looked so much more colossal and spacious without the usual TV occupying the far right corner, or her father's armchair seated right in front of it. It was eerily tidy with the lack of furniture that clogged up the family room, but it was the picture frames still hanging on the walls that confused her. No, they couldn't be moving suddenly, as photos were still neatly intact, and there were no boxes in sight- what was going on? "Mom, where-"

Sitting neatly with her legs crossed under the dining room table, Helen was busily poring over a thick stack of printed papers with her reading glasses at hand. She appeared perfectly at ease, yet somehow frazzled in a way that deeply concerned Clare. Her mother was very good at keeping a poker-face, and seeing how her nerves seeped through like this was quite alarming.

"Hi honey, how was school?" she asked serenely.

"Why is some of our furniture missing?" Clare's forehead crinkled anxiously. She peered over her mother's shoulders, catching a glimpse of the title before she flipped them around. "And what are those?"

"It's nothing, Clare."

"You're lying," she accused at once. "Those are divorce papers, aren't they?"

"How do you know so much about divorce papers, anyway?" her mom hedged, averting her gaze. She concentrated on shuffling her stack of papers. "You're only sixteen."

"I'm not a little girl, mom, I know what you're trying to do," Clare squinting her eyes into tiny little slits. Her voice rose up an octave in what felt like a turmoil of emotions- feelings of betrayal, fretfulness, even sadness.

"Keep your voice down, Clare, the neighbours will hear," she said sternly.

"Did dad already come to pick up his things? Is he coming back to say good-bye?" Clare shot questions at her, desperate for answers.

"It doesn't concern you, Clare, don't-"

"'It_ doesn't concern me?'"_ she repeated spitefully, using a tone no one has ever heard from her before. Helen's eyes flashed in alarm, as if suddenly aware of the gravity of the situation. Never has her daughter spoken to her like that, never has she seemed so determined to get her way. "I am part of this family! This concerns me as much as it concerns you!"

"Young lady, is it that time of month again? You're particularly catty today, and I suggest you take some time alone to cool off."

"You're not answering me!" Clare said sharply, infuriated by the constant dodging. "When's dad coming back? I have to talk to him."

"Clare-"

"_I NEED TO TALK TO HIM!" _she shrieked, whipping her bag onto the ground. It landed with a hard thud, causing the plates on the counter to vibrate and the glasses to clatter again each other.

And that was the final scrape of her mother's patience, because immediately after, she stood up. The chair screeched against the floor with an unpleasant, cringe-worthy sound, provoking a startled step-back on Clare's part. Staggering to regain equilibrium, she glanced up at her, finally seeing her for the first time since she walked in. He eyes were blood-shot, and her slender frame was practically trembling with anger. "Your father is _not _coming back- not for you, and certainly not for me! He's gone, and he's never coming back!"

Somehow, Clare's feet were already moving towards the front door before she could even process her words. They moved almost mechanically, like there was simply nothing else to do but walk away.

"You gave up. Just like that," she said in a low voice that was loud enough to be heard across the house.

"Clare-"

But the door had already slammed shut behind her, and she wasn't coming back.

**Eli:**

The drive to Clare's house seemed so damn short…but the ride back alone to his own house had to be the longest fucking ride in the history of rides.

He cranked up Morty to full-blast, wiping his windows cleaning in rhythm to some screamo song he was playing on his stereo. Rain was not a frequent thing in January, and it undoubtedly put a damper on the already depressing winter month. But he was glad that at the least, he managed to find Clare before she started her walk home. The poor thing would have to walk home in the pouring rain otherwise.

The roads were strangely empty for a school afternoon, probably because most people were safe under shelter, not wanting to take any part in the horrid weather. He didn't mind, though- it was nice and quiet, with the exception of the pounding downpour, and it did give some time to tend to this own thoughts. That is, until he nearly ran over a soaking pedestrian sprinting across the street heedlessly.

He stomped down on the brakes so hard, the car jerked at the sudden stop. And as he frantically wiped at his front windows to make sure he hadn't hit the person, Eli quickly realized with a jaw-drop that it was a very familiar-looking girl set before his hearse.

"Oh shit," he cursed under his breath, jumping out of his car. "Clare!"

The shocking near-impact must have caused her to stagger backwards, because she was currently sprawled on the ground with a dazed expression on her face. Her sopping wet curls clung onto her skin in a drenched mess, and with another jerk of his heart he realized as well that she was only wearing a sweater.

"What were you thinking, Clare? Oh my God, are you okay? What were you thinking running out like that? Why aren't you wearing a jacket? Jesus, it's freezing out here- why aren't you home? Clare!" he shook her frenetically, not caring that the engine of his car was still running, or that he was getting completely soaked.

"He didn't even say goodbye," she whispered bleakly to herself, staring blankly ahead. Eli shook her violently once again, gripping her shoulders tightly.

"W-what? What's wrong Clare?" he asked in distress, ignoring the discomfort that came with kneeling on a wet street floor.

"He doesn't even care about me, Eli!" she said loudly over the hard rain. Tears and rainwater mixed, pooling at her eyes, and it was evident that she had been broken and completely beaten by this. Her ragged gasps soon converted into sobs ripping down her chest, and her face contorted in hurt. "My dad left us; he took all his stuff and bolted earlier today. He wouldn't even stick around to tell me when he would be back, or if I'll ever see him again! He doesn't love me, Eli!"

"Shh, shh, that's not true," he soothed wrapping her in a wet embrace. He rubbed her back in a back and forth motion, somehow hoping that it would erase every bit of pain she was feeling. "He loves you, don't cry."

But Clare continued to cry, unable to stop from convulsing in his arms.

"I'm sorry he left," he murmured in her ear. The more she cried, the harder it was for him to stop from breaking down as well- it pained him to see someone as strong as herself lose all her self-control. It angered him that anyone could carelessly hurt her in such a way, knowing that she had already gone through so much. It wasn't fair. And if this was how things were at home, than he'd have no choice but to take matters upon his own hands.

Carefully sliding and arm under her knees, he lifted her off the ground. With many strenuous attempts, he finally managed to get her in the passenger seat, sitting in an upright position with all extremities in the vehicle. The next step was to pry her fingers off the collar of his jacket, which was admittedly, incredibly difficult. Sure, he could have easily ripped them off with a signal flick of his wrist. But there was something heartbreaking about having to resist her in her vulnerable state, even if it was temporary and for a little while. "I need to get to the driver's seat, I'm not going to leave you."

A long moment of deliberation later, she reluctantly loosened her grip, scrunching her shoulders together when he closed the door. He jogged around the back, practically throwing himself into inside and starting the car in one fluid motion.

"I'm not taking you home, if you're wondering," he shuddered, quickly taking off his coat and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"You can't," she whispered, leaning her weary head to the side. "Because home is wherever you are."

He all but kicked the door open, scaring the nuts out of Bullfrog who was coincidently standing near the shoe mat.

"What the hell boy!" he roared, clutching his chest in shock. "Why are you all wet and- more importantly why do you have a wet girl in your arms?"

"Not now, Bullfrog," he uttered through his teeth, forcefully nudging the door shut with his shoulder.

"Is that you Clare?" he squinted at the dripping mess behind him.

"Sorry," she murmured with her head bowed down, partially supported by Eli's strong arms. Even in her broken state, she had vehemently refused to be carried all the way to his threshold, insisting that she could very well walk on her own. But as mentioned before, she was in a broken state, and that in itself sapped a considerable amount of energy from her. "Sorry, sorry…"

"I'll explain later," Eli jerked his head towards his father, hurrying to get Clare upstairs to his room. She was already starting to shiver, and if he didn't hurry she would surely catch a cold.

"N-no Eli," she stuttered. "I'll g-get your b-b-bed wet."

"Just sit," he said, setting her on his unmade bed. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of his red towel slung haphazardly over his swirly chair, and took it. He wrapped it cozily around her, evoking a loud chattering sound from her teeth.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, feeling the mattress dip as he sat beside her.

"So would you care to elaborate?"

She shook her head, gripping the towel tighter around her like a cape. "I've already said enough. It'll be fine, don't worry."

He frowned, screwing his lips to the side. "You're a mess. I don't see how it can be fine."

"I-I don't want to talk about it," she said obstinately as another shiver ripped through her body.

"Are you afraid of letting me in?" he asked quietly, causing Clare to turn around. He lowered his face so that his nose was barely skimming the bridge of hers, trying to create enough heat to warm them both. Oddly enough though, his arms remained dully at his sides and his hands in his lap. He made no movement to wrap his arm around her.

"Yes," she whispered, eyelashes ticking his forehead as it brushed his skin. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together in a tight line.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm not going to leave you," he promised. "I know you're scared- I was too, remember? I was afraid of getting help."

She said nothing. Her eyes remained shut.

"I was afraid," he continued lowly, "and you helped me overcome that fear. I'm better now, Clare, I'm better because I let someone in. You need to do the same."

"I want to, Eli," she said in a small voice of which had broke midsentence. She sucked in a sharp breath, as if fighting back tears.

"Than what's stopping you?"

"It's because nothing's going to change," she whispered hoarsely, squeezing her eyes tightly. "I could tell you everything. I could tell you that I feel misguided, that I don't know what to believe anymore. Growing up in a Christian family…learning that marriage was good…divorce was a sin…. But now they're getting a divorce, my parents. I could tell you that aside from the hurt, I feel betrayed and confused. That there are more questions than answers and everything is…I feel lost. Everything is falling apart at the seams, Eli, and I don't know what to do."

"I can't promise you that it'll be alright," he sighed sadly, trying to stay strong for Clare's sake. It was incredibly difficult putting on a brave face, watching the girl he loved fall apart by the seams. Especially since she was such a strong girl, stronger than himself and anyone else he's ever met. "It'll be hard, but you won't be alone. You'll always have little ol' me."

"Will I really?" she said dubiously, swiping her bangs off her face.

"Hey now, what's this?" He crinkled his eyebrows. When she refused to meet his gaze, he reached out to cup her face. "You don't think I'm going to be there for you?"

"My dad said he'd be there for me," she retorted dully, eyes lifeless and far apart.

This made Eli's blood boil in fury. How is it that anyone can be as heartless as to abandoning someone as kind and caring and sensitive as Clare? How dare he just pick up his belongings and leave without an explanation, a note, hell, even a good-bye of some sort? Watching her desperately try to pick up the shatter pieces he left her with and put them back together was like watching someone drown a puppy- it was cruel and coldblooded and wrong on so many levels.

"No offence Clare, but your dad's an asswipe," he growled through his teeth, balling his hands into tight fists. She winced, but didn't say anything otherwise. "Don't let him ruin you like this."

"That's a little far, Eli. He is my father." Clare said, wincing.

_Father. _He froze for a second, a realization striking his mind.

_Father. _What a shitty excuse for a title.

_Father. _Damn things ruining lives one at a time.

"Sorry," he muttered, not really sorry at all. "But you can't let him hurt you like this. It's not fair."

She pulled back and rubbed her eyes. "I'm so tired of everything. I feel like… I want to escape, you know? Just run away for a little while."

"Wouldn't we all?" Eli sighed ruefully.

"Starting now," Clare decided at once. "Let's escape- just for today."

"Now?" Eli raised his eyebrow. "It's pouring out there."

She smiled coyly, taking off the towel he had lent to her, He watched her toss it aside, then proceeding to shrug off her sweater and kick off her boots.

"Wait a minute," he said, eyes enlarging. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm stripping for you. That's considered adventurous, isn't it?" she said pragmatically, peeling off the long-sleeved layer she wore under her sweater. Left in a thin t-shirt, she glanced expectantly at Eli, who looked shell-shocked and at a complete loss for words. "Oh, don't give yourself a brain hemorrhage, Eli, I'm just kidding. My clothes are just sticking to my skin, and it's quite uncomfortable."

"Funny. You had me worried there, Edwards. I was wondering how I would go about rejecting you if you threw yourself at me," he snorted, leaning back on his elbows.

"Don't you worry your pretty little mind, now. And why is it that you would reject me, anyways?" she questioned, wiping the last of the dried tears on her face. She blinked.

"Because," he said in matter-of-fact tone, "it takes a while before you can get some of this." He gestured the length of his body, smirking proudly at her.

"Oh, uh huh," she rolled her eyes unconvincingly.

"And hey, jog my memory here, but I'm pretty sure I was promised a certain make-out session with someone…?"

"Wow, never going to forget that one, are you?"

"Nope" He grinned, popping his mouth at the _p_. He pulled out his phone, tapping a few buttons here and there. "I've got my timer set on ten minutes. Are you ready to be blown away?"

"No matter the situation…we always seem to find out way back to bantering like children," she shook her head.

"Stop hedging, I want my kiss," he said, feigning impatience. He leaned forward, but right before their lips touched, he whispered "and no teasing."

She grinned impishly. "Who? Me? I don't know what-"

He cut her off, slamming feverishly against her face.

It started off slow. Sweet. But much to his surprise, the intensity began to escalate at a pace he wasn't at all expecting. At one minute, he was busy memorizing the feel of her lips on his- the next, their mouths were forced open, and her tongue began to intrude. First grazing his teeth, and then touching his own, moving in a way that wasn't at all sloppy or inexperienced. The fact that he was completely smitten about her may peg him as bias, but Eli personally thought she was doing a damn good job at it.

The sweetness quickly evaporated, replaced by a new, sensual, lustful atmosphere that came so fast, he felt as if his mind was processing things at a painful snail-slow pace. The kiss was full of need, desire, and thirst.

"Clare," he murmured throatily, shifting her so that she was lying on his pillow. His body hovering over hers put a strain on his muscles, but he was afraid of overdoing the intimacy- if he took things too far, he wouldn't be able to stop. Even more than that, he would be risking tainting Clare in the most immoral way possible.

She guided her fingernail down the length of his clothed torso, making Eli shiver in response. "Are you afraid to touch me?" she asked softly.

"I'm afraid of going too far, especially just after what happened," he clarified, letting out a low, primal groan when she massaged his shoulders. "Ooh, that actually feels really good."

"You're tense," she mused.

"That's because you stress me out. That tends to happen when you nearly run over your girlfriend, you know."

"Sorry about that." Clare planted a kiss on his nose. "Sorry for scaring you like that."

"S'okay," he grumbled. "I'm just glad you're safe."

"Okay gramps, no more talking. You're wasting your ten minutes."

"Oh hey…would you look at that. I didn't even start the time."

"…You cheater."


	26. Chapter 26

**Due to a nasty case of writer's block, imminent exams, and lack of responses for my stories in general, I haven't been in the best writing position lately. Thanks for story alerting and such though, guys. I'm determined to finish this story before summer fully comes around.  
><strong>

**Enjooooy!**

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><p><strong>Eli:<strong>

Laying limp on his shovel was a cadaverous sort of thing, a corpse that probably hadn't had much time to decay completely. He wrinkled his nose and dumped the remains with the rest of them, trying to withhold the nausea swirling around in his stomach. The air reeked with the redolent of death, filling his nostrils and embedding into his sense of smell.

Things were good. Clare was good, and they were good. So why cause more complications when there had been enough to begin with? There was a nagging voice in the back of his head, rebuking him, urging him to talk to someone about this, and questioning his very sanity. Why was he consciously putting himself through the same kind of torment he had worked so hard to pull away from? Why did he trick himself into believing that he was clean and he could be when it was so obvious that he hadn't filtered absolutely everything?

"You're slow tonight, kid," the man growled, looking unsatisfied with his towering pile of corpse. "I got a whip sitting out in the shed if you need a reminder of who you're working for."

Oh yes. That was why.

Eli was getting pushed around like a ragdoll, and it wasn't like he _had _to tolerate this sort of injustice and disrespect. He had his chance to bring it up. He had the chance when he was calling Clare's dad an asswipe, reprimanding her for letting someone control her in that way- what a hypocrite he was. The stench of hypocrisy trailed him with every step he took, and every so often, the words would bubble in his throat. He had no doubt that in some way, Clare would find a way to aid his problem, because she was in fact invincible in that sense. But every time he opened his mouth to speak, the words could halt, tangling around his tongue and repressing the guilty urge to take that step. Her large blue pools would gaze at him with concern, awaiting his next words, and that always threw him off. Eli didn't want to disappoint her. Not again.

"I finished at least a dozen," he said through gritted teeth, striking his shovel at the ground for the umpteenth time.

"Not enough!" Julia's father barked, the sound of his loud, raucous voice piercing through his eardrums. He winced, but nodded and picked up the pace.

Sanity was a complex thing- and he dared to say, even more complex than Clare Edwards herself.

**Clare:**

"Eli can be such a complex person," Clare furrowed her eyebrows, setting down her mug of hot cocoa on Fiona's divine coffee table.

Complication after complication.

"What is wrong, Clare Edwards?" Imogen asked, mirroring her merged brows.

Three of them were sprawled out on the floor of Fiona's condo for another girls' night in, indulging in rich, chocolate-y beverages, fashion magazines, and cheesy Italian movies. Fully-clad in their pyjamas (Fiona in her precious satiny night gown, Imogen in her frenzy of bird-patterned flannels, Clare in her over-sized t-shirt and cotton pants), they spent most of the evening in the most comfortable state. Much to Clare's relief, her friends refrained from public displays of affection when she was around, so there was no need to feel awkward in their presence- Fiona and Imogen had a wonderful bond, and acted more like best friends rather than girlfriends. In a short amount of time, the three had grown incredibly close to one other, and found connection in spite of their massive differences. Adam and Drew were nice company, but sometimes she found that girls were a lot easier to talk to.

"When I text Eli, he usually responds right away," she frowned, scrolling through her inbox. "Even if it's in the middle of the night."

"I don't see how that's exactly a problem, Clare-bear. Imogen usually falls asleep on me," Fiona rolled her eyes, nudging Imogen playfully.

"Ah, but Miss Coyne, we would never stop talking if I allowed you to go on and on in the way that you do," she winked, poking her in the ribs.

"But there are some nights- like tonight- when he doesn't respond at all," Clare continued worriedly.

"Maybe he's just sleeping," Imogen offered.

Clare shook her head. "No, it's still relatively early. He doesn't go to bed until at least midnight."

"You don't think he's out partying, do you?" Imogen widened her chocolate-brown eyes, slapping her palms to her cheeks. "In a bar, with a male prostitute."

"Maybe he has an all-access pass to a male strippers club!" Fiona exclaimed, cupping her mouth.

"Getting frisky with a half-drunken man sitting in the pub!" Imogen gasped.

"He's _not _gay!" Clare cried out in despair, eliciting a fit of giggle from the two teasing girls. She exhaled deeply, looking quite distressed.

"Clare, don't worry about it," Fiona cooed, a warm smile on her face. "I think you're just overreacting."Your boyfriend, regardless of how dark, brooding, mysterious, sketchy, unpredictable….remind me again why you're going out with him?"

"Funny," Clare narrowed her eyes, as another giggle bubbled form Imogen's lips.

"We're just teasing, Edwards," Imogen threw her arms around her, rocking Clare back and forth in a playful manner. Initially stiffening at the rocky movement, she eventually loosened up, allowing herself to be soothed by the idiosyncratic girl. Her skinny arms were oddly comforting around her shoulders, and the rough rocking distracted from the stormy thoughts raging in her head. "Please do not fret. You are only scaring yourself more."

"Maybe," Clare murmured, biting her thumbnail. "But don't you find it perplexing how he seems to be routinely absent?"

"Well, besides that, have you noticed anything else particularly suspicious?"Fiona asked.

Clare thought for a while. "Twice I overhead him speaking angrily to someone on the phone. Does that qualify as suspicious?"

Fiona screwed her lips to the side, grabbing the large thermos sitting on the table and pouring another serving into her cup. The steam floated in a thick smoky cloud above, before disappearing into the air altogether. "If it's worrying you this much, why don't you talk to him about it?"

"That would be the most rational option," she mused slowly, pressing her lips together in a tight smile. "I'm just afraid that he's going to shake it off. Eli's not the most open person."

"Wouldn't we all know that," Fiona snorted good-naturedly, turning over to Imogen. "Imo, can I braid your hair?"

"You two have a very strong relationship, and he appears to confide to you quite easily," Imogen stated pragmatically, shifting her back towards Fiona.

Clare just nodded and smiled appreciatively, eyes flickering around with an unsettling feeling rumbling inside of her. 'Easy to talk to' was only to a certain extent, as it seems, because truthfully she had already thought of that. She couldn't tell if it was just her paranoia stirring up some troubling feelings, or if something was truly happening to him, and it seemed unfair for her to jump to conclusions. She had to trust that if something was wrong, he would come to her. She wouldn't have to pry it out of him.

She couldn't.

"But what if!" Fiona suddenly squealed, snapping Clare out of her meditation. "What if…" she leaned forward, something glimmer in her eyes. "What if you did a little investigation yourself?"

"You mean follow him?" Clare blurted bluntly.

Fiona shook her head furiously, hastily wrapping around the ends of Imogen's braid with black elastic. "Don't say it like that; you make it sound so illicit."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Ooh, an adventure!" Imogen cheered. "How fun!"

"Is he usually MIA Sundays, Clare?" Fiona inquired, a calculating expression on her face.

"Yes, but-"

"Oh dear, I don't think I own any black clothing," Imogen fretted, lips curving downwards into a small frown.

"Don't worry, dear," Fiona patted her shoulder. "I have a whole closet full of it."

Imogen grinned and clapped her hands together happily. "Yay! How exciting!"

"No,no,no, I'm not going to stalk my boyfriend," Clare said, inwardly melting at the word _boyfriend. _Her stomach fluttered, and her insides twisted, but she kept her face as austere as possible. "It wouldn't be right."

"If he doesn't have anything to hide, than it shouldn't matter, should it now?" Fiona pointed out

"I trust Eli," Clare stated confidently. "I believe that he'd tell me when he's ready."

Fiona shrugged. "It's up to you. But you should know, that Imogen and I are going to be here waiting if you change your mind."

"I love being a spy," Imogen drawled emotionally, placing a hand on her chest.

* * *

><p>Monday morning, Eli looked like a complete zombie- ghastly complexion, purple rings under his eyes, sluggish movements, and drooping eyelids galore. The way he carelessly slammed Morty's door behind him without even bothering to lock the old thing, and how he shuffled aimlessly through the driveway was enough to take a toll on Clare's mood. He didn't even see her standing on the front steps, watching him torpidly drag his feet on the pavement with wary eyes. For all she knew, a meteor could have descended from the sky and he wouldn't have noticed.<p>

It was the third time she had seen him like this, and it was three times too many.

"Clare," he mumbled confusedly, allowing himself to be dragged down the hall by the arm. He seemed mildly disoriented by the dozens of gawking students littering the hallways, and was blinking profusely in a futile attempt to stimulate his senses. The poor boy was so exhausted; even dragging him in a tow couldn't jar him awake.

She had a specific destination in mind, and was determinedly taking him there with her. Twisting the knob of the janitor door, it clicked open with ease, and she proceeded to squeeze both of them in. She shut the door closed behind her, sitting Eli down on one of the stools.

"I see what you're doing here," he said with a weak smirk, eyes still half-closed. "Stealing me away for a spontaneous make-out session, huh?"

Clare didn't answer, concentrating solely on her work. Out of her bag, she took out a damp facial towel and folded it into a medium-sized square.

"How are you doing at home?" he asked, mouth hanging open as he yawned. "How are you and your mom?"

"Close your eyes," she said quietly, and he obeyed immediately. She gently massaged his face with the cloth, soothingly wiping the wide expanse of his forehead, down the bridge of his nose and around his cheeks in small, circular motion. This seemed to relax him at once, as he let out a pleasant sigh.

"Good, I hope," he rambled on.

"Getting better," she murmured, refusing to veer off track. Refusing to admit that progress between her and her mom had been admittedly slow, as just yesterday they managed to hold one painfully tense conversation. Clare still couldn't look her in the eyes, and Helen seemed to get that. Time was the only thing that could mend their relationship now.

"This smells like lemon," he noted, taking a whiff. "What are you doing?"

She disposed the wipe in the trash bin, dodging yet another respond. Clare expertly cupped his face with her hands, patting and holding, patting and holding so that his face would loosen up. Eli let out another pleasant groan, leaning into her touch.

"Does that feel better?" she asked softly. His face seemed brighter, more awake, and more luminous now.

"Tons, thank you," he murmured, gazing kindly at her.

"You're been so tired lately. Is something bothering you?" she asked worriedly, brushing away the hairs falling on his eyes.

"I just haven't gotten much sleep lately," he yawned involuntarily, slumping his shoulders.

"Okay. How about something that isn't blatantly obvious?"

He chuckled, sliding his fingers into her hand. "I'm tired, Clare. Don't worry about it."

"It's a little too late for that, don't you think?" She paused briefly. "Are you by any chance…insomniac?"

Eli's eyebrows shot up before merging together. "What makes you think that?"

"I did some reading a little while back, and I found out that insomnia is one of the symptoms of being bipolar," she explained carefully, gazing down at him. His eyes were a little further down than usual, given that he was sitting and she was standing. The two were rather cramped together, what with the vast collection of cleaning tools closing in on them. The lighting was dim, and the proximity alongside would certainly have given the air of intimacy if it weren't for the gravity of the situation. Clare could feel his warm breath, blowing steadily on her face, and it took her a considerable amount of concentration not to feel lightheaded or positively memorised by his lips- they were a beautiful Cupid's bow, soft-looking and inviting. And for the first time, she had some trouble fighting the temptation of pressing her lips against his. Something hot began to brew between her legs, and it came as unexpected as Eli's smile.

"You were reading about my illness?" he asked, slightly amused.

"I know it's not a temporary kind of thing, and I kind of thought the same way about-"

"About what?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but let out air inside of words. A sheepish grin crept up on her flustered face.

"I never saw us as a short-term kind of thing," she admitted, mashing her lips in a tight line.

"Neither did I," Eli said, bringing up the pad of his thumb to her face. He lightly swept it past her lips, looking as tempted as she was.

"Eli," she reminded him, gently pushing away his thumb. "What's wrong?"

He exhaled in defeat, tearing his gaze away completely. "My shifts are in the night time, and lately I've been working past my usually hours."

"Where do you work?" she inquired.

"It's not that retail stuff, if that's what you're thinking," he said dismissively. "But it requires a lot of hard work, so I've been a little more worn out these days."

"Oh." That made perfect sense.

The smile returned. "So is the interrogation done? Can I go to class now?"

Clare nodded, turning to open the door. She poked her head outside to make sure the coast was clear, quickly checking for any teachers witnesses. But right before she could confirm that it was safe, a pair of strong hands pushed her out, causing her to stumble and trip into the halls. Thanks to her amazing equilibrium, she managed to lose her footing, landing in a mess next to a couple of sneering seniors.

"Oof!" she huffed, the impact knocking the breath out of her. She craned her neck, biting her lip nervously. "Sorry, sorry!"

The girl rolled her eyes, gesturing her snotty little friend to walk away with her.

"Aw, Clare, I didn't know your balance was that horrible," Eli teased, sliding his hands under her pits and pulling her up.

"No! Eli!" she yelped, squirming away.

"Whoops, you're ticklish there I forgot," he smirked apologetically, transferring his hands to her waist.

"You cruel little tired boy," she muttered, brushing off her bum. The dust that had collected from on her pants was probably plentiful, considering she had all but slid across the floor before coming to a halt.

"Here, let me get that," he offered, sweeping off the remaining dirt on her bottom. Clare didn't say anything at first, patiently waiting for him to finish up while she brushed off any other spots that had gotten dirty during the nasty fall. Swiping her sleeves, legs, and even her hands, she had been so immersed in cleaning herself up than she had failed to notice how the scene looked to the bystanders. Eli's hand suddenly froze, fingers splayed open on one of her cheeks.

"Eli?"

"Your arm," he frowned, taking it gingerly in his hands. He inspected it carefully, caressing her soft skin. "Does it hurt?"

"No, not- oooww," she flinched, instinctively yanking it back to her chest. No doubt would a nasty bruise blossom in the next twenty minutes, accompanied by dull discomfort.

"I'm sorry, Clare," he said sadly, reaching out to gently take her arm again. He glanced at her for permission to try again, and she just nodded once, feeling his fingers softly stroke the hurt spot. "I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing it once, twice, three times. Cocking her head to the side, she watched her snarky boyfriend attempt to atone for his childish behaviour by planting several chaste kisses on her skin. The way his eyebrows would stitch together in apologetic concern was undeniably sweet, and how he paid no heed to the many staring pairs of eyes made her melt on the spot. Eli seemed care little of what other people think. It didn't occur to him that he was practically throwing away his notorious bad-boy reputation all for a little boo-boo.

"Thank you," she said softly, touching his cheek. She didn't understand why, but Clare often found herself enjoying the feel of his face. The warmth was always inviting, always enough to create a heated bubble around them both.

"You sure like touching my face, don't you?" he smiled. His Adams apple bobbed in his throat, a deep kind of heat emitting form his chest.

"You're forgiven. Just get some rest when you get home, okay?" Clare smiled back, kissing him right on the tip of his nose.

The sweet boy needed it.


	27. Chapter 27

**LIGHTNING FAST UPLOAD, YES? That's because this chapter is kind of short, and leads to the final one. Yes, we're nearing the end, and I can't tell you how excited I am to be finishing this! Writing in fanfiction has truly been a wonderful experience, I must say.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Eli:<br>**He hadn't _lied _to her, per say. He simply did not tell her the entire truth. There was a fine line between sneaky and mendacious, and he quickly learned to dance his way around it.

"Baby boy, are you alright?" Cece peered in his bedroom, frowning at the way her son was inclining on his unmade bed. The bed sheets she had so carefully slipped on his mattress was all rumpled up in one corner, and his down-filled blanket was sitting on the floor in an ugly heap. Four o'clock in the afternoon, and Eli was already dressed in his comfy sweat pants, ready to crash. "You look…exhausted."

"Just say it out loud, mom, I look like shit," he groaned, rolling over too his side. Not even bothering to pull up his pants or care about his dishevelled hair, he slumped over and mashed his face against his pillow.

"You've been coming home from work later than usual. Is the bookstore making you work overtime?"

"Yeah," he said, sounding muffled. "It's cool, though."

"Honey, look at you," Cece clicked her tongue, setting down the basket of laundry at the doorway. She sat down no his bed, placing a hand on his back. "If you're so tired, you can just tell them you can't do it. They'll understand."

"No, mom, I'm fine," Eli insisted. All he wanted was to be left alone in peaceful slumber for the next lifetime and a half, and Cece managed to pick that up without further explanation.

"Okay," she said uncertainly, receding slowly. "But there is someone here to see you, if you don't mind."

He immediately perked up, wrenching himself in an upright position. "Who?"

Cece smiled, pushing his door wider to reveal…

"Oh, it's you," Eli's face slipped into a frown, and he flopped back on his mattress.

Resting her hands on her hips and rolling all her weight on one leg, she shot Eli an exasperated look before giving Cece a kind smile.

"Thanks for taking me up here, Cece! My mom says hello!"

"No problem, honey. Holler if you two need anything," she gave Eli a little wave before heading down the stairs.

"Fi, what are you doing here?" Eli asked with zero enthusiasm. He earnestly scrubbed his eyes raw, trying to rub off any trace of sleep trying to win him over. He was completely restless, bordering the insanity of sleep deprivation, and fighting it seemed like a losing battle. His extremities were heavy, blinking felt sluggish, and the damn sunlight was just adamant about peeking through his blinds. He was in no mood for conversation.

"Missed you in drama today. I was going to invite you for some coffee after school," she said, looking around for a place to sit. Remembering it was Eli's room, she settled for standing. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just peachy," he grumbled, squinting at her. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I see your sarcasm hasn't taken a toll," she noted, slightly irritated with his attitude. Unlike Clare, Fiona's patience tended to run thinner within a shorter period of time. "Why are you so tired, anyway?"

"_Work_," he said, annoyed. "Congratulation, you're the hundredth asker. Your parents must be so proud. Are you going to let me sleep or what?"

"Yeesh, Mr. Crabcakes. Don't need to bite my tail off, "Fiona lifted her palms in defence, arching one perfect brow. Eli let his eyes roll to the back of his head, before burrowing his face into his pillow. "Where exactly do you work, anyway?"

"In a place," he said shortly.

"In a place?"

"That's correct."

"Okay," she said, jumping up on her feet. "Take me there."

He lifted his head up to shoot her a doubtful eyebrow quirk. "Um, why the sudden need to see my workplace? You've never gave as much as two shits about it before."

Fiona let out an exasperated sigh. "Why are you being so difficult?"

"Why are you prying?"

"Why are you difficult?"

"Why are you prying?"

"Clare's worried, you dummy!" she stomped her foot, glaring irritably at him.

His breathing halted, and though it wasn't brand-new information, he did feel awfully guilty about leaving her out in the dark. Fiona, willingly coming into his room? His suspicion was confirmed the second she claimed to 'miss him' in drama class and he would have been all smug about his correct prediction if he wasn't feeling so uneasy and tired.

But then something struck him- quick as lightning, as blinding as lightning. Why the hell was he letting himself fall back into the same routine, making things so difficult for himself? Why _was _he so reluctant to tell Clare? Was he really afraid to complicate their relationship even more?

It was at that second that he had an epiphany: he was indeed worried of walking outside in the rain when he was already sopping wet. Like how when he was little, and he used to be scared of going down the twisty slide- was he scared again, after doing it a million times?

"God, I'm so stupid!" he groaned, slapping his forehead. He was, in fact, incredibly stupid. He scrambled up at once, fumbling around for his phone. "If my entire life story was written in the form of a book, my readers would seriously think I have the biggest one-track mind ever," he muttered to himself, dumping out all the contents in the backpack. When only books, binders, and a half-eaten apple came falling out, he dropped his bag and proceeded to search his desk.

"Wow," Fiona looked taken aback. "I was anticipating you be a little more difficult, but okay."

"Stupid, stupid," he continued to murmur. "Where's my phone?"

"Um, probably wherever that annoying vibrating is coming from." Fiona wrinkled her nose.

Eli strained his ears, trying to find the source of the buzzing. He patted around the lumps of clothes that lay around, finally digging up the familiar slickness that is his cellular phone after some careful feeling around.

"Hello?" he asked, mildly breathless.

"Eli, I know you told me not to worry, but I'm going to worry anyway because I know you and I know when you're lying and I have to be honest and tell you that I did not believe you one bit when you told me it was merely exhaustion. You're a good hider, Eli, and I know there's something going on and you won't tell me because you're afraid of scaring me or admitting that there's a problem but-"

"Whoa," he blurted out. He had never heard Clare talk so much, so earnestly at once. "Slow down. I was just going to call you."

"Really? Well then…"

"Really," he laughed breezily, an amused twinkle in his eye. "Do you want to meet me somewhere and talk about it?"

"I want to come as well!" Fiona chimed in, raising her hand up in the air. "Imogen and I want to know what's up!"

"I'll have to ask my mom first," she said nervously, and he could almost hear her biting her lower lip. "Do you think she'll let me?"

"Say you're meeting Imogen and me!" Fiona chirped, leaning forward and speaking towards Eli's phone. He flinched, shrinking back and glaring at her.

"Sounds like a double date to me," Clare giggled cutely.

"Forget it," Eli shot down, turning his back on Fiona. "Clare, tell you mom that you won't be home any later than six. I'll get you back in time, don't worry."

"Fine," Fiona pouted, crossing her arms. "Will you tell me in time?"

Eli paused, contemplating the matter. As he did, he pressed his palm against the speaking end of his phone. "In time, Fi, I promise. Clare's just…easier to talk to."

The way he lowered his voice, almost in a shy, timid way caused a smile to spread across Fiona's face. "You _luuuuuub _Clare-bear," she teased in a hushed tone, making a heart with her hands and kissy faces with her lips.

"Please," Eli rolled his eyes, dismissing her with a flick of his wrist. A faint blush began to pool on his cheeks, but he kept his nonchalant façade nonetheless, hoping she wouldn't call him out on it.

"What?" a small voice came from his phone. It was a light, innocent voice that prompted him to immediately bring the small device up to his ear again. "You don't…love me?"

"No, wait, no," he said quickly. "I love you Clare, you know that!"

"Ha," Fiona snorted. "I knew it."

"Shut up," Eli grumbled under this breath, shooing her away.

A tinkling laugher sounded from the phone. "Alright, I believe you. So where to? Your place, perhaps?"

"Sounds great. I can come over and pick you up in ten, okay?"

"Thank you," she said sweetly. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye Clare," he smiled, always waiting for her to hang up first before he did.

"That's cute, Goldsworthy," Fiona cupped her face dreamily.

Eli made a face, throwing a pillow at her face before sprinting out the door.

* * *

><p><strong>P.S : My goal recently had been to reach 200 reviews, but I can see that's not going to be happening. That's okay, I'm not greedy. I'm thankful for all you guys's response. :)<strong>

**...But can I at least attempt to bribe you with a final chapter upload by this weekend? :D It would make a little girl's dream come true so unless you guys are dream crushers then *shrugs***


	28. Chapter 28

**200 reviews. This is just phenomenal. **

**200.**

_**ForeverInYourArms , Madame Degrassi19820, clareandeliforever, CDsOnTheWall, The Cliffhanger Girl, ImaginationOfJessica, **_**all the anons, and to everyone who had read/reviewed/story-alerted this story- you have all been so incredible with your never-ending support for the past twelve weeks! This is just mind-blowing, and I******__**wish I could respond to all of you individually because all of you are so special to me- every single reader. Always a special thanks to KitKat0219, my first reviewer and awesome fangirl-buddy who is is currently MIA. She's just hilarious. And thank you to my mysterious 200th review, who I may or may not ****know. I have a feeling that I know you anon, you sneaky person you.**

**There's also a misconception out there with you guys in regards to my graduating- haha, I'm not graduating. Let me just clear up, I'm fourteen. I'm nowhere near graduating.**

**So I will say this for the last time in the story- a bittersweet ending this is indeed, which is silly because I know I'll probably be continuing to write-:**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"Oh my God. Can you guys like, not suck face for two minutes?" Drew groaned, flinging popcorn at the intertwined couple.<p>

"You're getting the smell of sex all over my couch!" Adam whined, throwing candy bits at them as well.

"Eli!" Clare reprimanded, roughly shoving at his chest. There were pieces of sour red candy stuck in her hair, popcorn stuck in Eli's. Her face was bright red; his flustered, but the smirk conveyed a completely different message.

"Hey, you insisted we come over for a movie day," he shrugged, lifting his palms up in defence.

"Yeah, to actually _watch movies_," Drew grumbled, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the large bowl and stuffing it in his mouth. "You always seem to be working these days, I haven't seen your face for a while now, man."

Clare and Eli shared a knowing look- rather, they had originally intended to. The second their eyes met, any will to tear their gaze away melted in an instance. Loving, tender, fondness glowed around the couple, green melding with blue flawlessly as if there was never any other way. Clare tentatively reached out to hold his chin, a small, shy smile on her face.

"Yeah, I don't think I'll be working there again," Eli said, the corner of his lip tugging upwards in a crooked grin.

"Why not?"

"I'm kind of over it," Eli shrugged, still staring affectionately at Clare. "I got tired of the night shifts and all."

-x—

"_I can't do this anymore," he said resolutely, looking determinedly at the haggard-looking man with his infamous whip enclosed around his fingers. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a small movement. A twitch, almost, followed by the tightening of his grip. The anger coursing through the man's veins was nearly palpable, and for a short while, he contemplated fleeing the scene. One flick of his wrist. That was all it would take for him to send another sharp flash of pain across his body, and coming into the situation quite cognizant of this, Eli began to wonder why he was doing this. He was so afraid, terrified of the significance of this. Frightened not only by the potentially awful physical consequences, but also what it would mean._

"_But when you're afraid, think of me and know that I can be strong for you when you're weak," Clare had said, touching her forehead with his before he turned on his heel and left. Bullfrog would drive her home, and she would be safe. A part of him was incredibly reassured by her safety, for it meant one less thing to worry about. He was comforted in knowing that Clare was far, far away from the dangerous mess he was too much involved in._

_And she was right- she would be strong enough for both of them, and that gave him the courage to speak up._

"_I don't give a fuck of what you can or can't do kid," the man snorted, roughly tossing the shovel at him. Eli staggered backwards as the metal tool pushed him off balance, letting out a gruff as his lower abdomen groaned in pain. "I want your ass, out there, pronto."_

_Eli whipped the shovel across the dirt ground, keeping his feet planted. Scraping together what bravery Clare had fueled with him, he empowered himself with images of her, her smile, her eyes, and her blush. With that in mind, he felt that he could do everything, almost. Almost everything._

"_Do I need to remind you what you did?" he growled lowly, advancing quickly and gathering the collar of Eli's shirt in his fist. The way he held onto him started to cut off his circulation, provoking a hoarse gasp of air in Eli's part. "Do I? Huh? Do you need me to remind you?"_

_Struggling to rip away from his vice-tight grip, Eli desperately clawed at the man's hands, but all to no avail. He was like a stone, having no reaction to the red marks Eli was making with his nails._

"_You're weaker than before," he laughed raucously, mockingly. "My little girl was always stronger than you."_

_His grip tightened, and Eli choked. The blackness was dangerously near, and one wrong move meant the abyss. He had fought so hard to stay away. He had fought so hard to keep from falling. He was not giving up now._

"_I-didn't- k-kill," he croaked, trying to produce sound. But his throat closed around the next few words, causing his eyes to roll to the back of this head._

"_A word of advice to the nitwit who convinced you to stand up to me," the man said in sardonic amusement. He chuckled darkly to himself. "Don't bother. Who are you even talking to these days, kid? That person must be real messed to deal with someone as warped as you. You're pretty fucked up, man, I don't understand how anyone could be as stupid as-"_

_It was his turn to have his words cut off, because before neither of them knew, Julia's screw-up of a father was on the ground, letting out a howl of pain and clutching his bloody nose. Quicker than it took him to recover, Eli stretched out his fingers, hearing the crackling sound coming from his knuckles._

"_I did _not _kill Julia," he said through his teeth, placing his foot on the man's stomach. He stomped on it hard, eliciting a sharp cry from him. "And don't you _dare _talk about Clare that way. Don't you dare call her stupid of messed, because I _will _personally make sure to give you hell for whatever time you have left here."_

_All of a sudden, Eli's leg came flying up and he was lying on the ground. His back made contact with a dull thud, and the man was suddenly up on his feet._

"_Fuck you," he spat, punching Eli in the face. "Fuck you!" _

_He punched him, not once, but four times before his vision began to slip away from him. In a futile attempt to block the punches, he raised his arms to cover his face, but that only worsened the block. His arms were twisted in a way that was definitely not meant to be twisted, sending more pain through his body. _

_It was at that moment that Eli found that he could no longer fight. The blackness crept up to him once again, this time harder and more powerful than it ever had before. It invaded his sense like none other, enveloping him like darkness and sucking him in like a deathly vacuum. This was it. It was all over._

"_He's over there!" a voice from the far, far distance cried. "Hurry, hurry, please!"_

_Impeccable timing it had been, as there was what he estimated to be an inch of life left in him before he was rescued. The weight of the man was lifted off of him, replaced by the presence of a softer being._

"_Eli, please wake up!" she cried into his ear. Her voice was trembling, and her touch was like golden light. Weightless as a feather, soft as cotton, and wondrous as a beautiful dream. "Please, open your eyes!"_

_He slowly lifted his heavy lids, already feeling a black eye forming. It was dark, but he could make out two large, pleading blue eyes hovering before him, and that was enough._

"_I did it," he smiled weakly, squinting at her. "I told him."_

"_Oh, Eli, thank you!" she smiled back at him, both relieved and tear-stained. She gently lifted his head and placed it on her lap, brushing the hair off of his face. "I'm so proud of you, Eli, I love you so much! You scared me back there."_

"_I love you," he said hoarsely, letting his eyes close again. He shifted slightly so that his face was pressed gently against her stomach, feeling the warmth emit from her body. "Where is... is he?"_

"_He's in the police car right now, Eli. You don't have to worry about it anymore, it's all over."_

"_Thank…thank you," he murmured, smuggling up against her._

"_I love you," Clare smiled softly. "It's alright now, you can go to sleep. You're safe."_

"_And to think that all of this started with a journal," he mused sleepily._

_She laughed, and it sounded as carefree as wind chimes swaying in the summer breeze._

"_You make a lot of sense when you're tired, you know?" she smiled, caressing his bruised cheek._

"_But it's true. If we never swapped journals…"_

"_Okay, okay, Eli. Just go to sleep now, you're tired."_

"…_Yes master."_

-x—

Clare and Eli just smiled at each other, reliving the last bit of bitter sweetness in their minds. While the man's motives were still questionable, it had been clinically proven that his sanity was as well- he was messed, and he may never make any sense. The couple decided to put all the craziness behind them without sparing a single glance back.

It was all about moving on.

"Well you had a job, at least," Drew grumbled to himself. "I've been trying to get one for ages, and let me tell you: it ain't easy shit. I've been to at least ten interviews and there was this only guy-"

"Look he's doing it again!" Adam shrieks, whipping the entire candy package at Eli's head. "Dude, stop trying to eat your girlfriend!"

Clare wrinkled her nose, squishing his face with her hand. Endeavouring to push her boyfriend away, she pushed harder and harder, trying to put some respectable space between them. His amused chuckle sounded muffled against her palm, and she couldn't help but giggle along with him.

Eli mumbled something unintelligible, lips squashed against Clare's hand.

"What did he say?" Drew asked, knitting his brows together.

"He said that he hears a car pulling up in the driveway," Clare translated, screwing her lips to the side.

Adam stood up, padding over the windows in the living room. Peering outside, he nodded. "Yup, Fiona and Imogen are here."

"I still can't wrap my head around it," Drew shook his head, setting the popcorn bowl down at his feet. "Fiona _and_ Imogen? Who would have ever known?"

"You two have certainly missed out on a lot," Clare said.

"I kind of thought Imo had a thing for you, "Adam noted, jerking his head towards Eli, who merely shrugged.

"Please don't remind me," he murmured, shaking his head. "Having to confront her about it was the most awkward thing ever."

-x—

_Her door colour had changed, Eli had noticed- he distinctively remembered it'd be coated in a brilliant scarlet colour the time he dropped her off after the concert. It was a royal blue now, and it clashed with the sunny yellow marigolds decorating the front lawn. It was an eccentric look all around, and he was convinced that Imogen wasn't just the oddball of the family. _

"_Elijah Goldsworthy!" she greeted with a perky smile, swinging open the door before he even had the chance to knock. Her glasses sat anew on her nose. The pigtails sprouting out of her head were sloppily tied. Her overall dishevelled appeared had Eli contemplate whether to come to come back another day, but he was aware now that it was too late to turn back._

"_Um, hey Imo," he half-heartedly lifted up his hand to wave. The other remained jammed in his pocket, jangling around his car keys. "Sorry for coming here so unexpectedly, I-"_

"_Oh no, don't apologize Elijah Goldsworthy!" she cut him off enthusiastically, shoving the door wider. "Come in!"_

_The smell of something funky invaded his sense, and he immediately cringed and receded. Her home reeked of onions and coconut and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on._

"_We could also talk out here," he said, shifting from one foot to the other._

_Her shoulders bobbed up and down excitedly. "That's very fine with me! Just let me find my coat!"_

_Ah yes, the infamous red coat. Sequined and shiny and furry in all its glory. In a way, she looked like a little child getting ready to play out in the snow, and Eli's guilt just soared at what was to come. Was he heartless enough to blare his screamo music while driving past a hospital zone? Maybe. Callous enough to eat the last spring roll when he's eating Chinese takeout with his family? Definitely. But watch and be responsible for tearing down someone's heart in an unprompted confrontation? That was a tricky one._

"_So how may I assist you today Elijah?" she said dreamily, swaying back and forth to some mute music._

_He swallowed hard. _Just come right out and say it. _"Imogen…I know that you may have some…feelings for me and-"_

"_That is correct, Elijah," she interrupted again, peering curiously at him. Something flashed across her eyes and once. A sudden glow overtook her, and she began to bounce up and down animatedly, boots crunching against the white snow repeatedly. "Now I know why you're here!"_

_Eli blinked confusedly. "You do?"_

"_Yes!" she cheered, pumping her fist in the air. "You're here to tell me that you return the feelings! Oh, I can't tell you how long I waited for this day!"_

Oh shit, no, no that's not what he meant.

"_Elijah Goldsworthy, I love you too!" she squealed, grabbing his face and pushing it towards hers. Before he could react, their lips were smashed together with such unexpected pressure, all he could do was stand there like an idiot while she tried to force a reaction out of his lips. She was surprisingly strong for someone so tiny, and it took him a considerable amount of effort to pry her face off of his. _

"_Imogen!" he exclaimed, appalled. He could have sworn he tasted some tongue in there._

"_Why did you break off the kiss?" she asked, tilting her head to the side._

"_Imogen, no. That's not what I came for," he shook his head, wiping his mouth with his sleeve._

"_You…don't have feelings for me?" she said in a small voice, as if it was the most shocking news in the world._

"_Someone else does though," he said hastily, hurrying to do whatever it takes to wipe away the heartbreaking expression on her face._

"_Who?"_

"_Fi-"He stopped, mentally smacking his forehead. Oh, wasn't he a wonderful chamber of secrets. In a moment of panic, he drew a complete blank in regards to boundaries of what he could and couldn't say all under the duress that is a sad face._

"_Fi…? Fiona?" she raised her eyebrow, looking intrigued by the idea._

_He said nothing, and just rolled all his weight to his other foot._

"_I knew it all along!" she bubbled, the excitement rushing back to her in a heartbeat. "She likes girls, doesn't she? Oh, I knew it wasn't just a friendship between us!"_

_Well then. "Wait a minute. Oh, my God, you have a crush on her," he enlarged his eyes._

"_Oh my dear, I must go speak with her," she murmured to herself, ignoring Eli completely. "Bye-bye to you, Elijah!"_

_And she turned on her heel and back inside her house, leaving Eli totally stunned._

_-x—_

"Funny," Clare said broodingly, putting a finger on her chin. She eyed Eli carefully. "I don't remember Imogen kissing you when you told _me _the story…"

Adam and Drew hooted and howled in amusement, avidly watching Eli as his eyes widened in realization and scrambled for an explanation.

"I love you, Clare," he said sweetly, gazing nervously at her. He attempted a cute smile.

"Oh, put a sock in it, Goldsworthy," she rolled her eyes, wriggling out of his warm embrace. She got up and hurried to open the door, grinning invitingly at the two girls standing hand-in-hand at the threshold. Both of who were equally happy about their current position. "Hi Fiona. Hello Imogen!"

"Clare Edwards, pleased to see you again!" Imogen said excitedly, throwing a quick one arm hug around her.

"Hi, Clare-bear," Fiona smiled, before diverting her attention towards the rest of the occupants. "Hello, Torres brothers. Goldsworthy."

"So when are we going on a double-date?" Eli smirked, eyeing their hands.

"Hilarious, Elijah," Imogen narrowed her eyes into tiny, playful slits. She leaned closer to Fiona, resting her head on her shoulder. "I don't share."

"Well, I guess we're gonna need more food with all these people." Drew chirped, hoping to his feet.

"How are you two not on Welfare with eating habits like his?" Eli rolled his eyes, jabbing his thumb towards a whistling Drew.

"Our family is a living miracle," Adam shrugged.

"So what movies are we watching?" Imogen asked, patting her head, jamming herself between Fiona and Adam. Eli, who was sitting next to him, noticed that there was no more room for Clare. But as he attempted to get up to offer her a seat, she just shook her head, settling for the spot on the floor between his legs. He found he had to open up his legs a little for her to sit comfortably, and with a mash of his brows he realized what kind of position this put him in. His –_ahem- _area felt oddly exposed and breezy, as if there was a draft somewhere in there. It's been quite some time since he's been this intimate, and he was convinced his legs must have had cobwebs attached to them.

There was suddenly a sharp banging sounds echoing across the room, causing everyone in it to jump.

"Stupid remote," Adam muttered, peering at it like some sort of mysterious device. "Drew!" he hollered. "Where are the spare batteries?"

"What pear what?" he screamed back.

"I swear to God everyone in this household is deaf," Adam grumbled, stomping over to the kitchen. "I'll be right back. Talk amongst yourselves."

And with that, Fiona and Imogen began to chatter lightly. Clare immediately swerved around, smiling at Eli with her eyes.

"Oh, look at them Eli," she whispered fondly, inconspicuously gazing at the couple. She smiled contentedly as Imogen playfully swatted Fiona's shoulder, obviously saying something quite humorous as she threw her head back and laughed. "Aren't they adorable?"

"Just call me matchmaker," he murmured smugly, pulling up his legs and wrapping his arms around his knees. "What?" he asked, returning Clare's unhappy stare.

"It was so warm between there," she frowned, referring to his legs clamping against her body.

He chuckled, opening his arms. "Then why don't you bring it in?"

"Because I know it won't be two seconds before you start devouring me with kisses," she raised her eyebrow challengingly, folding her arms over her chest.

He craned his neck up so that he was facing the ceiling, a lopsided smirk playing on his lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said innocently.

_Where the hell are the batteries?" _Adam screamed from the kitchen.

"Eyes here, mister," Clare chided, tapping on his knee.

"What? What? I can't hear you," he said loudly, rocking his head from side to side. He closed his eyes, pretending to be blind.

"Eli," she said reprovingly.

"I can't _heeear _you," he sang in an obnoxiously off-key voice.

"_Oh my freaking God, Drew, I swear if you don't drop that pudding cup-"_

"I don't-oof!" Eli grunted.

Without warning, Clare hoped onto his lap, covering his entire face with her tiny hands. Eli struggled to pry them loose out of instinct, but all to no avail- she kept them firmly planted on his face, over his eyes and covering his nose and mouth. His arms flailed out to the side, feigning distress, but Clare just giggled at his thrashing about.

"You said you can't see!" she laughed over her grunting. "This shouldn't make a difference."

"Clare, you're being ridiculous," he said in a stern, disapproving voice. This just made her laugh harder.

"_You got pudding in my batteries!"_

"_You got battery in my pudding!"_

"Now I can't see a thing," Eli groaned sadly, fumbling blindly around to feel for where Clare was. "Is this Clare?"

She giggled.

"Is this your face? Oh, don't wanna poke your pretty blue eyes out, do we?" He continued to venture with his hands. "This feels like hair- a lot of hair. Ooh, it's so soft…what kind of product do you use on this? You _have_ to let me try it."

"Look at the lovebirds now," he heard Fiona say from a distant. He grinned, feeling more daring now."

"Is this your neck?" Clare wiggled around violently, but still managing to keep his face covered. "Are you ticklish here Cl- wait, no, you're ticklish everywhere."

"That's not true!" she exclaimed defensively. "Not on my hands, I'm not!"

"Shoulders, yes, very good. Arms, stomach…what are these? Oh my God, are these boobs? They're boobs, right?" He said excitedly. Even from where he hands were, he could feel Clare's heart beat rapidly in her chest.

Something sharp whapped across his face.

"…Okay fine, no boobs."

"Guys," Adam came striding in, irritation stamped on his face. In his hands were a couple of batteries, dripping with viscous brown pudding.

"Is that poo?" Imogen widened her eyes.

Adam stared at her.

"Yes, I pooed on the batteries, and now we can't watch TV!" Drew came following, throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation. "I'm sorry, okay? I just-"He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, eyes flickering over to the couch. It took him a brief second to process Eli and Clare's rather intimate position before twisting his face into a tight grimace. "_Ewww! _No sex on my couch! Oh my God guys, I eat there!"

"This will be a very pleasant year, don't you think?" Imogen mused whimsically to Fiona.

"I'm going to order a pizza tonight, is that okay?"

"Uh-huh, that's fine mom," Clare bobbed her head up and down like a bobble head, hands folded neatly on her blanketed lap.

"Pepperoni?" Helen asked.

"That's funny, mom. You know I don't like pepperoni."

"Vegetarian again, I suppose."

"Uh-huh."

"Alright then, I guess I'll go call now."

"Okay, see you later mom."

As soon as the door closed with a click, Clare let out the exhale she was holding sense her mother came into the room. She flipped her blanket off of her and pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"Yes, I'm so glad you kept that underwear under here and- hey, are you cold?" Eli inquired warmly, wriggling out from underneath her bed. After dusting himself off, he proceeded to sit next to his girlfriend, collecting her into his arms. "God, you're freezing Clare."

"She was _thisclose _so catching you again, Eli," Clare shook her head. "One day she's going to find you here."

"Hey now, where is this coming from?" he wrinkled his brows. "You've never been so concerned with this before."

"I know," she murmured, leaning into his chest. Feeling the warmth of his skin transfer to her own was sheer bliss, and this was excluding the sound of his heartbeat thumping against her ear. He was a safe harbour that she had grown to love a little bit more every day. "But Eli, we both know that this isn't right. I-I don't like hiding this from my mom. It feels wrong."

"We're not doing anything wrong, Clare," Eli tried to soothe her worry with a gentle back rub. He slithered his hands under her shirt, letting the feel of his bare hands run up and down her body.

"I-ooh," she said, sounding mildly confused by the sensation. She cocked her head to the side, arching her back instinctively. Losing her train of thoughts completely, Clare's mind was suddenly focused on the electric sparks bounding off his hand and into her skin, creating a heated pool stirring in the pits of her stomach. The warmth, the intimacy- it felt so _good._

"I'm not pressuring you into doing anything," Eli continued, completely unaware of the affect he was having on her. He seemed to be too concentrated on justifying their actions to himself and Clare, that he failed to notice how sloppy and big his circular rubs were getting. "I know your vows, Clare, and I know that you're not ready. I respect that about you. That's not going to change, no matter what the circumstances are, okay?"

"Mhmm," she nodded with her lips pressed together, beginning to impatiently squirm on the spot. Now that her back was warm, her stomach felt cold, and figured that there was one practically way of solving that. She abruptly twisted her torso around so that his large hand was sprayed over her belly, appreciating the way it warmed that area up in an instance.

"Uhh…Clare?"

"How is it that you're always so warm?" she asked, merging her eyebrows together.

"You're easily distracted today, aren't you?" he chuckled, a low rumbling sound coming from his chest. "I thought we were talking about something else."

"Yeah, um…sorry, go on," she blushed, swallowing deeply. Darn Eli and his attractiveness and such.

"I think that it's important we talk about this," he said, smirking slightly at her flustered face. "You understand that I'm going to wait, right?"

"I know, she sighed, palming her cheeks to cool them down. "It's just, sometimes I feel like I'm holding you back. You _are _a teenage boy- I don't want to deprive you or anything…"

"You're silly," he grinned crookedly, kissing her nose. "This is all I need."

"We're spending so much time together like this," she said quietly. "It makes me a tad bit nervous."

"Me too," he admitted, kissing her fingers one by one. She smiled at his cute gesture. "As long as we know the feeling's mutual. But like I said, I'm going to wait. Whether that's after you get married or years into the future, I'll wait. There's no pressure."

"Can we really think that after just eight weeks? I mean, realistically speaking-"

"Oh Clare, when have we ever been realistic?" he laughed airily. "Or normal, for that matter?"

"Point," she allowed, screwing her lips to the side.

"It's okay to feel a little overwhelmed," he reassured her. "I know you're new to all of this."

"That makes one of us, huh?" she frowned slightly.

Eli merely scooted his bum so that his back was leaning against her headboard, taking Clare with him. In one, fluid motion, he lifted her up onto his lap, both of their legs extended towards the end of the bed. He snaked his arms around her waist, clasping his hands together at her stomach.

"Everything is new with you," he whispered ardently into her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

She tilted herself slightly to gaze at him, just seconds before he captured her lips in a sweet kiss. Eyes closed in pure happiness and lips savouring the taste of tender affection they continued to meld their lips together, blissfully sharing enough love to last them a lifetime.


End file.
